#sorry. when i played 12/1 in reload i lost my shit

[killjoy-prince]

A kiss from Death

[andieperrie18]

Baba Yaga (Bill Skarsgård x hitman reader)

I LOVE ME SOME JOHN WICK. THIS IS PURELY INSPIRED AND ADAPTED FROM JOHN WICK SO ITS REALLY CRAP

(This woman is the one that mostly inspired me.)

baba yaga

1. EXT. - SKARSGARD MANOR - NIGHT

Y/n stood a few yards with a stoic look, having a clear and full view of the massive four story home. The dark skies lit up along with were the sound of bullets flying inside the said house…

…like a storm was brewing in the air.

Y/n walked forward and calmly pulled out a gun, a Browning 1911, with click and cock, she reloads as soon as she stepped on the porch of the mansion.

2. INT. - LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS

Stellan was forced down to a single seat recliner by masked individual, ten more men entered the room with pairs dragging three of his eldest sons and his wife, Leonora. The three males, Alex, Gustaf and Bill. All three had been beaten in almost a pulp. Leonora whimpered as she was pushed by another man down beside her sons.

The lead man still had a gun pointing to the father, Stellan's eyes glimmered in discomfort. He worries, not for his life, but for the life of his wife and children.

"You've been a real pain on Mr. Mortisen's back ever since you broke off with him. Now look at what cost it?"…

…the lead man waved his armed hand towards the corner of the room where his sons and wife sprawled together, his sons tremored with hatred and his wife a whimpering mess.

"I took the liberty to help boss and take care of you since you are no longer any use to the Vortigern Alliance." the man continued as walked toward his family.

Bill was tugged harshly from his siblings and mother and he's figure froze as the familiar click of the gun sounded behind him. He could hear his mother's whimpers growing louder at the moment, his brother's screaming curses to the masked man. His eyes shot from the carpeted floors to his father's battered form.

They had been the most formidable family in the Underground society but after his father had mysteriously broke off with the said union, threats suddenly came bashing towards him and his dear loved ones. He has done a lot of bad things but all he could do was close his eyes for a moment, praying to whatever primordial being that exist to send him an archangel to save him and his love ones.

"Are you going to beg for their life old man? Cause I'll really enjoy torturing your family infront of you. My other men are looking for your daughters and nephews which will add more fun to this moment"

A terrified look laid plastered upon the old man's face as he heard the continuous struggle of his sons until his eyes shot up to the wall clock the hung above the entrance of the living room…

…tick.tock…tick.tock…

11:55pm

the cat designed-clock read as it continued to soundlessly tick on the wall. The eyes of the cat that was usually swaying with its style as it work had stopped. And it was looking at him or rather the man that held a gun on his face.

A breath of RELIEF left his bloodied mouth.

3. INT. - FRONT DOOR - CONTINUOUS

Y/n eyed the masked figures coming down from the staircase, her eyes counted a total of TEN exclucing the two females, and five young males that were being dragged by the said men.

It wasn't long before they caught her figure.

Y/n walked towards the free way, to them, the first armed men lifted his gun…

…Y/n disarmed him with an elbow to the face, pulling his arm harshly as she had grab full hold of the rifle and pointing it to the two men who were both their way to them, shooting dead in the head. She locks the man in her arms within a choked hold killing the man with five seconds. There were SEVEN left.

"stay back"

One threatened as she held his hostage in the grip of his arm. Others had their own hostages left to three of their men as the four circled her.

Y/n looks at the man before creaking her neck with a crack and sprung back as one man had planned on jumping on her, she shot her hand, grabbing hold of the man's collar, swinging her armed to his face, knocking the man out cold and brought him as a defense mechanism as she moved forward to the same man that had a hostage. The two men looked at the each other before a gunshot passed inside the head of the third one, his figure slamming down to the wooden floor. The dead man's hostage curled to the side for safety. Y/n stood in her place as the men circle her. FIVE left.

The roamed around her but neither one initiated an attack, the offendee took it upon herself to attack and grab the nearest male and strongly snapped his head, with the other falling to his bum in fear with his gun sliding far away from his grasp. The annihilater turned to the poor man and calmly but quickly shot him to the head and walked away like nothing happened.

The other three left hid by the corridors near the closed door of the living room.

Y/n glided in the dark and pulled the first man that she saw and strangled him with a phone charger wire. Slowly and quietly dropping the to the ground.

The younger kids huddled together as the two youngest sobbed uncontrollably, the TWO remaining men began to question if they should enter back to the entry way…

…shk chk…

Two whistles of a gun was heard.

3. INT. - LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS

The loud gunshots echoed through the doors, grabbing the attentions of everyone inside the room.

"What's going on out there?" the lead man asked as he looked towards his other men, one pulled out a walkie talkie.

"Bron, what's going out there?" the man said through the walkie talkie under a deep German voice.

it was quiet for five seconds,

"Sorry boss, we had a little trouble along the way, we're bringing the remaining in." a deep voice said in German.

"Very well, bring them in, you three, get them." the lead man ordered as the said trio got out of the room. the lead man turned to the old man sitting on the recliner, his gun still pointed to his son's head.

Stellan's shoulder started shaking, whimpering.

"You're already crying old man, I haven't even started yet."

The shaking turned in a set of chuckles, which had every person in the room in confusion, even the family.

Bill eyed his father in confusion, just when he thought all hope was lost, he finds his father confidently laughing.

"What's so funny?? You mad or something?"

Stellan sat up straight, the look of terrified look on his faced vanished and a look of assurance and confidence went with it.

"I didn't leave the alliance because I had financial problems, but it was because another union has offered me alot better beneficiaries than the Vortigern."

No one had even noticed that lights had gone off outside of the living room, a man that stood by the entrance was pulled by the collar as he disappeared in the darkness without a sound of his screams.

"An offer I cannot simply turn down. They offered me double the amount that Mortinsen can give, they offered me pure confidentiality of my other businesses…

Y/n emerged from the dark and slit the throats of two of the closest men before her.

Leonora could only mutter her name in a never ending relief as she watched Y/n duck down behind a sofa before rushing towards the other two before it, plunging a pen to their heads.

"They place me under the safety of Baba Yaga" The old man trailed, his peripherals not missing the familiar black suited vigilante behind the man and his son.

Neither Alex nor Gustaf knew of this woman but they immediatly knew that this was person their father called as "Baba Yaga"

"THE BOOGEYMAN? What are we five? Stop playing with me you dumb shit--"

…SNAP…

the sound of a neck snapping off caught the attention of the lead man and Bill. The other had no time to react as his head was bashed forward to glass coffee table and was greeted with a number of numerous heavy punches.

"they gave me full safety of my family without" Stellan stood from his seat, Bill had already crawled to his mother as they watched the scene before them unfold.

"I'm sure you've heard of the pencil incident. Miss Wick here had always loved her pencils, especially colored ones."

The unknown femme fatale picked up the lead man's collar and made him face Stellan.

"With her on my side, You will do nothing, because when she comes, you can do nothing."

The femme plunged something to his stomach as he choked with this own blood, with his once hostage eyeing him down with a smirk.

"Its already 12:05. You were late. Any particular reason for that?" The old man asked her as she turn to him.

My neighbor's cat picked a fight with Tavie, it had to go. she said through the movements of her hands.

"You and your dogs, you didn't even use your gun. Why did you bring it?"

back up?

Bill eyed her in curiosity, the mute girl was a thorned rose, armed with the perfect poison towards her enemies.

[sevralships]

“Just Because You Can” Part 4 of 7, Chapters 12-16

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7 FIN]

The Pines triplets, Mabel, Dipper, and Jolene, have always been best friends. But lately, there’s been some distance growing between the Mystery Kids, due in part to the forbidden feelings with which they are each struggling. How will they manage to see eye to eye, when torn between wanting each other and craving adventure?

(This is a new AU that I’ve been calling Jolene AU, devised by myself and @handleonthescandal​ after one of us asked the question “What if Mabel and Dipper were triplets but with another sister?”. Although this AU is similar, it is not connected to Double Dippin’ AU, and Jolene is in no way connected to Tyrone.)

Shoutout to @sirwaddlesesquire for being the trustiest squire and an insightful, helpful, and supportive beta.

Mostly SFW, mostly angst with some action/adventure and a little bit of fluff, tw incest

Fic under the cut, enjoy!

Chapter 12: Mystery Twins

Exhausted and ashamed as Jo and Dipper had both been, it had turned out to be a lovely evening with their sister. Wet-haired from showering, they’d sat in the kitchen, gratefully eating the meal Mabel had cooked. Dad had been teaching her over the last year and she’d improved a lot. They’d eaten their food and then moved into the living room and curled up on the couch together. No sooner had they sat down than Jo had fallen asleep with her head on Dipper’s shoulder, snoring softly in his ear. Mabel had played the mom role and shooed them both up the stairs to bed while she cleaned up in the kitchen.

Dipper was bone-tired when he shut his bedroom door. His body ached from the day’s exertions and his bed looked wonderfully inviting. But there was something he had to do first. He turned on his bedside lamp and twisted it so it illuminated his bed brightly, and pulled the twisted blankets aside. He placed the scale from the lake gently on the bed and switched on the camera, quickly taking a few shots. It had been much more beautiful in the natural light, but the photos were adequate.

Almost on autopilot, he’d moved the photos from the camera to his laptop. He’d clicked the bookmark in his browser that took him to ‘mysterymonthlymag.com’ and eyed the featured daily headlines for a sec before clicking the ‘Explain the Unexplained! Contest Submissions’ link. He attached two images of Tessie and one of her scale, an picture Mabel had taken of he and Jo before their search for Scampfires in Gravity Falls last summer, wrote a 250 character blurb in the space provided, and hit ‘Submit’. Normally, he would have read and reread and obsessed over it, but he was tired enough that he couldn’t bring himself to obsess. The pictures are as good as they could be, he reminded himself, better than we could’ve hoped. He wanted to win, but at this point, he wanted nothing more than he wanted to sleep. He shut his laptop, crawled into bed, and fell asleep instantly, forgetting to switch off the lamp.

The following Thursday, the triplets had been sitting in the basement den together. Mabel sat at her crafts table, putting finishing touches on props and accessories for ‘Twelfth Night’, Jo lay on the floor rereading her worn old copy of ‘Journey to the Center of the Earth’ snacking absently on a bowl of chips, while Dipper sat on the ugly pink futon, tapping away on his computer, working on an essay for his Ancient Mythologies class. They were in their Greek Mythology unit and Dipper knew the material so well he hardly had to think to write about it. The pain had been finding sources to cite when none of the information was new to him.

Dipper’s laptop and cell phone pinged in unison, the specific ping he knew to mean he’d received an email. Happy with the distraction, Dip clicked over to the tab in which his email inbox was already open. Probably junk, he thought to himself, watching the page reload. When it loaded, a new email was indeed on top of the list and Dipper’s heart skipped a beat, his eyes training on the subject line ‘CONGRATULATIONS!’

“Holy shit…” Dipper muttered to himself, opening the email and quickly reading the contents, “Hoooly shit…”

“‘Sup, Dip-man?” Jo asked lazily, not taking her eyes from her book.

“We won,” he said softly, disbelieving, reading the email a third time.

“Speak up, Dip-dot,” Mabel chimed in distractedly.

“Holy shit, we won!” Dipper repeated, the excitement in his chest finally catching up with his tone.

Both his sisters dropped what they were doing, echoing ‘holy shit!’ in unison. They scrambled over and hopped onto the futon on either side of him, eager to read the email over his shoulder.

“ ‘Dear Mr. Pines,’ ” Mabel read and chuckled, “Hehe, sounds like they’re talking to dad…”

“ ‘Dear Mr. Pines,’ ” Jo read, impatiently, “ ‘It is with great pleasure that we inform you that your submitted findings on the subject of Tahoe Tessie have been selected to be the featured winner of this year’s ‘Explain the Unexplained!’ contest!’ ” the pitch of her voice rose steadily so that it was a shrill excited squeak by the end of the sentence.

“ ‘Our judges were very impressed by the professional attitude and enthusiasm exemplified in the style and content of your short response as well as the remarkable nature of your findings.’ ” Dipper read on, his tone uncharacteristically confident.

“‘If you wish to accept your spot as winner, we urge you to contact us promptly to set up an interview. Congratulations again!’ ” Mabel chimed in, “ ‘We look forward to getting to know the Mystery... Twins... much... better.” Her voice lost its enthusiasm and stiffened on the last few words.

“ ‘Sincerely, Matthew Michaloff, Manager of Reader-Submitted Content at Mystery Monthly Magazine.’ ” Jo read, still high on cloud nine, “With his number, ooh, I wonder if that’s his personal extension!”

“They misspelled ‘Mystery Kids’...” Mabel grumbled, standing up and walking back to her craft table.

“Yeah, I know,” Dipper said, “Sorry about that, Mabes. I only had 250 characters to tell our story. There wasn’t room to talk about being triplets, they must have figured from our names and picture that Jo and I were twins.”

“It’s fine,” Mabel said stiffly, picking back up what she’d been working on. How appropriate, she thought bitterly, jabbing the needle harder than necessary into the crown of Olivia’s wedding veil for the following night. Maybe I’m Olivia after all, stubborn and grieving and they’re the twins. Suddenly, ‘twins’ was the ugliest word she’d ever heard when for ages it had been her secretly coveted dream. They’re the twins, she thought, the jab prickling, and there’s no room for me in only 250 characters…

A click at the top of the stairs announced the door opening, “Mabel? Scout?” Mom’s voice called, “Are you girls down there?”

“Yes, ma,” Jo called back, her attention still focused on Dipper’s laptop screen.

“Could you two come up here and help me with something?”

Mabel looked over and met Jolene’s eyes, trying not to look angry. Jo had a familiar deer-in-headlights look, the same one she got whenever mom or anyone else required her input on girl matters, “Sure thing, mama, we’d love to,” Mabel called back. Let Jo squirm a little, she thought with sick satisfaction, besides it’ll peel her away from Dipper’s side for a hot second. Dutifully, Jo joined her sister and went up the stairs.

Mom met them with a slightly anxious smile, one that only Dipper had inherited. Of her three children, mom definitely was the most like her son. They were similarly high-strung, in an exceedingly well-meaning way, both dedicated micro-managers. The girls followed their mother up the stairs to their parents bedroom and the matter at hand was instantly apparent. There were clothes strewn all over the bed and dresser, a disarray of garments and accessories. Whenever mom needed help from Jo and Mabel, it usually pertained to this sort of thing, as it was the only area in which Dipper’s similarity to her was no help at all. Dipper shared mom’s usual feeling that clothes were a utilitarian necessity, but were neither important nor interesting beyond that.

“Whoa, did a bomb go off in your closet?” Jo asked sarcastically, and mom reddened a little. Jo grinned, “Finally payback for all the times you said that about my room!”

“What’s the dealio, momsy?” Mabel asked, ever the more sensitive daughter.

“Well,” mom squirmed a little at being on the spot, “You girls know your father and I have been making a point of making time for dating and romance,” Jo looked queasy at the use of the word ‘romance’ in conjunction with her parents, “We’re going on special date tomorrow night--”

“And you don’t know what to wear so you called for backup,” a grin was spreading on Mabel’s face, “You did the right thing.”

“So you’ll help?” her green eyes glittered with gratitude.

“‘Course mama-bear,” Mabel said, “Right, Jo?”

“I think this is more your forte, Miss-Sis--” Jo glanced at the door.

“Nonsense!” Mabel interrupted, “It’ll be fun!”

As their mom started pulling hangers from her closet, Dipper sat in the basement den, listening to the phone ringing, hoping the other line would pick up. And with a click, it did, “Thank you for calling Mystery Monthly Magazine, you’ve reached the office of Matthew Michaloff, Manager of Reader-Submitted Content. My name’s Petra. How may I help you today?”

“H-hi,” Dipper choked, cursing the crack in his voice, “My name’s Dipper Pines. I received an email from Mr. Michaloff saying my sister and I had--”

“Oh! Tahoe Tessie Dipper!” The woman interrupted and Dipper couldn’t help thinking how awesome it would be to work somewhere that even the receptionists were excited about the supernatural, “Congratulations to you and your sister, Mr. Pines! I’ll put you through to Mr. Michaloff at once!”

“Thanks, that’s awesome,” Dipper responded, pleased to be taken so seriously.

There was a click and a couple seconds of silence, followed by another click and a man’s voice, “Matt Michaloff speaking,” he said, “My assistant tells me I have our winner on the line?”

Dipper laughed nervously, “Ha, yes, ha ha, I guess that’s me? My name’s Dipper Pines, my sister Jolene and I investigated Tahoe Tessie?”

“The man of the hour!” Dipper imagined he could hear the man smiling, wondered if he was looking absently at small replicas of Nessie and the Jersey Devil and the Central American Whintosser on his desk, “Congratulations again to you and your sister, Jolene! I trust you’re both well?”

“Um, yes, we’re both well. Thank you, Mr. Micha--”

“Oh, please, call me Matt,” The man interrupted with a laugh, “Mr. Michaloff is my dad!”

“Ha, that’s exactly what Jo said about you calling me Mr. Pines in your email,” Dipper said, loosening up a little. He had the feeling most of the employees at Mystery Monthly were kindred spirits.

“Well, Dipper,” Matt Michaloff said, in a more informal tone, “Would you and Jo be able to do your interview with me tomorrow evening?”

“Tomorrow?” Dipper squeaked.

“Yes, tomorrow, if at all possible,” Matt reiterated, “We’d really like to get the story to our editors as soon as possible. Of course, if you can’t make--”

“Oh, no, we can make tomorrow work!” Dipper interrupted eagerly, “If you wanna do tomorrow night, we can definitely do tomorrow night!”

Matt laughed good-naturedly, “I’m loving your enthusiasm, Dipper Pines,” he said, “Well, if there isn’t anything else, I’ll talk to you at, say… six o’clock tomorrow?”

“Six is fine,” Dipper agreed, “But there is one other thing actually.”

“I’m listening,” Matt said.

“Well, Jo and I aren’t actually twins like you said in your email,” Dipper corrected, “We’re actually triplets, we have another sister named--”

Matt laughed again, “You know what, Dipper, if it can wait till tomorrow, I’d love to hear whatever you have to tell me then.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Dipper acquiesced, “Sure, yeah, I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“Fantastic,” Matt replied, “Talk to you then, Mr. Pines.”

“Okay, Mr. Michaloff, thanks again.”

“Extend my congratulations to Ms. Jolene Pines, if you will,” Matt said, smoothly, “I look forward to making her acquaintance and hearing all about your experience.” He hung up and Dipper sat in stunned, giddy silence, and took several minutes to lower the silent phone from his ear.

Chapter 13:  Interview Jitters

“Do you think he’s going to ask what kind of gear we had?” Dipper muttered at Jolene, “Should we lie? I mean, we don’t have any freaking gear--”

“We’re not lying,” Jolene said, stuffing a coiled rope into her pack, “Gear doesn’t matter. In fact, doing it without gear is cooler.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s right, you’re right,” Dipper grumbled, flipping through the cue cards he had hastily prepared, “Not lying, duh. But I mean, he’s gonna wanna know how we went about it, if we planned, if we practiced. Dammit, I’m forgetting something but I don’t know what it is! Ugh! Oh man, do most people--”

“Holy moses, Dipper, get a hold of yourself!” Jo exclaimed, shooting him an exasperated look, “We’re gonna be great. We’re charming little shits, remember? Can’t we just do this normal conversation style?”

“Are you serious…?” he could hardly make it through the question, “Like, yeah, we’re great but no, Jo-jo, we are following the cue cards. Man, I really feel like I’m forgetting something… The cards, they’re color-coded to make it easy--”

“No fuuuuucking way,” Jolene laughed, nestling a couple water bottles into her pack, “I am not following your dorky cue cards.”

“No, Jo, seriously, you have to--” he stopped talking abruptly, staring at her, “Hey, what are you doing?”

"Oh, whatever do you mean?" Jo asked, batting her eyelashes at him before shifting her attention back to her pack.

“Your bag. Why are you getting your pack ready?” The pitch of his voice rose anxiously, “I swear to god, Jolene, if you are ditching me to do this interview alone--”

“Pssh, as if,” Jo said, putting her hands on her hips, “I’m not leaving you alone with your boyfriend Matt, who knows if you lovebirds will even use protectio--”

“Well you’re not even paying attention to what’s going on! Why are you getting your pack ready?” Dipper demanded, “Why aren’t you freaking out?”

“Dip-man, I’m not freaking out because you obviously have the panic attack quota covered,” Jo said, putting the last couple things in her pack and pulling the drawstrings to tighten the opening before snapping the flap shut, “Aaaand I’m getting my pack ready for our trip to Lone Pine Mountain.”

Dipper laughed derisively, “You’ve got to be kidding me, Jo.”

“Why would I be kidding?” Jo countered with a shrug, “Operation Tessie went well enough that we freakin’ won, which is awesome, now’s the time to go--”

“Oh, I know you are fucking joking,” Dipper said, the hint of anger in his voice stopping Jo in her tracks, “Operation Tessie went well? I’m sorry but we must be thinking of different fucking days.”

“Dip, I know it wasn’t perfect,” Jo conceded, “I know it was fucked up, but we did win and--”

“Yeah, it was fucked up, Jo,” Dipper agreed, throwing his cue cards down on his desk, where they scattered, “We almost died. And in case you bumped your head, you promised me no more unnecessary risk.” Jo fidgeted uncomfortably under Dipper’s accusatory gaze, of course, he’s right, you did promise. “No Lone Pine Mountain Devils. End of conversation. Now we need to prepare for--”

As if on cue, Dipper’s phone started ringing, playing the iconic ‘Z-Files’ theme song. Both of them stared at if for a second before Jo rolled her eyes and grabbed it, swiping the green ‘accept call’ button, “Hello, Jo Pines speaking, who is this?” she said, and Dipper cringed at her brusque tone, “Oh, thanks. Yeah, Dipper’s here. Gimme one sec and I’ll put you on speaker.” She took the phone from her ear and rested it against her chest, “No flippin’ cards, bro-tective, just be your debonair lil self.” Dipper nodded and Jo nodded back, looking at the phone screen and pressing the speaker button.

Chapter 14: Opening Night

“Hey, uh, Mabel, um, are you, uhh, sure this is gonna fit?”

“Brandon…” Mabel said, wearily, resisting the urge to facepalm, “Yes, it will fit. It fit you at dress rehearsal less than 24 hours ago.”

“Okaaay, if you say so…” Brandon said, sounding unconvinced, walking away testing the elastic waist of the costume in his hands.

The show was set to start in only a few minutes. Mabel stood in the wings, checking on the costumes of the characters in the opening scene. Judging by the noise level, the theater was filling up nicely. Ticket sales had been good and they had every reason to project a successful opening night. And at least two of those seats are filled for my sake, Mabel thought with a smile. She hoped Jo and Dipper had gotten here early enough to nab a spot with a decent view of the stage. Even if they hadn’t, she hoped there would be sufficient sparkliness to shine all the way to the back row.

“It’s show time,” Mr. McMahon said, coming up beside her as the house lights dimmed and the audience obediently applauded. She gave him her patented ‘you-got-this’ million watt smile and he walked on stage to give the standard ‘thanks for coming, a word about the production’ speech. Duke Orsino showed up behind her, ready for his entrance for the opening scene. He was fidgeting with the velvet hat she’d made him, unsure of how it should fall. Mabel adjusted it for him as Mr. McMahon finished up his speech to polite applause.

The first half of the play went off without a hitch. No lines flubbed, no entrances missed, no costume catastrophes. Mabel helped with set changes and preened the actors before they went on. Many of them received a last dusting of glitter for good luck from the container labeled ‘For Emergencies’ that resided perpetually in Mabel’s pocket. In her uncharacteristic stage crew blacks, only her face was easily visible in the dim of backstage, beaming with pride. The costumes glimmered beneath the stage lights and made all the hours of stitching and gluing well worth it.

The house lights came up after the act break to signal intermission, and most of the audience started to file out into the lobby, in search of snacks and bathrooms. Mabel happily skipped out from behind the side curtain and down the small steps at the left corner of the stage. She scanned the crowd for Dipper’s scruffy head. He was tall enough to usually find easily in situations like these. They must be out in the lobby already, she decided after having ascertained that they were no longer in the theatre, That’s a bummer. Only the people with seats in the back are already out there. Well, this would not be the first time her siblings had gotten to something too late to get good seats. With the sufficient sparkles it should be fine.

She made it through the press of bodies into the lobby. Everyone was chattering about the production, and with pleasure she caught a few snippets about the “eye-catching costumes”. Damn skippy, they’ll catch your eye, she smiled inwardly. There was a card table with snacks and drinks for sale over by the entrance, and Mabel knew her Trips enough to know that they’d make a beeline straight to the refreshments. She made her way over to the table. Liz, one of the costume crew drop-outs, was manning the table. Traitor, Mabel thought as she slipped ahead of the line, peering through them. No sign of the sibs. She frowned, “Hey Lizzie?”

“Oh, hey, Mabel!” Liz said, her tone a little too friendly, “Hey, the costumes look awesome! Great job on those!” She handed a couple candy bars and some change to a parent in line, “Like seriously, wicked. Even better than ‘Oklahoma!’!”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Mabel said, unfazed by the buttering-up she was receiving, “Listen do you--”

“Hey, look, I know,” Liz interrupted, her tone a little more serious, “It was really lame of me to quit. I’m sorry I left you with so much to--”

“It’s fine, forget it.” Mabel said impatiently, tensely checking every face in the crowd, but not seeing the two that looked like her, “Have you seen Dipper or Jo?”

“Dipper and Jo?” Liz repeated dumbly, and Mabel resisted the urge to flip a nearby tray of cookies on her.

“Yeah, Dipper and Jo. Jolene. My brother and sister?” Mabel reiterated, “Ya know? One looks like me? One looks like me, but a boy… and like a foot taller? C’mon, we’ve been in school together since we were like lil piglets!”

“Ha, yeah, Mabel,” Liz said, a little snotty at being condescended to, “I know who Dipper and Jo are. But no, I haven’t seen them. I don’t think they’re here.”

“Thanks,” Mabel huffed, turning on her heel and walking away from the concessions. Okay, no way. They’re definitely here. Just cause Liz didn’t see them doesn’t mean squat. She’s not the brightest light on the tree. They were definitely not in the lobby, though. Maybe they went out to Aoshima? Yeah, of course! Of course, they’d gone out to the car. They usually would sneak snacks of their own into this sorta thing, they’d probably just gone out to restock their pocket candy. Mabel could feel a grin spreading on her face as she leaned her weight against the glass door to open it, the cool air of the spring night refreshing. It was a nice night, and both her sibs would rather take in the night air that stand around in a mob of people.

Her feet carried her several feet into the parking lot as her eyes bounced from car to car, looking for the smiley face antenna topper and the outline of a friendly sibling head. No smiley face, Mabel frowned. Well, if they were late, maybe they’re out on the road? She checked the clock on her phone. The next act was starting in only a couple minutes, and there was no time to check.

Mabel went back inside to check the bathroom. No Jolene in the ladies’, and no Jo or Dipper waiting by the door for the other. Maybe they went back in the theater already…? Mabel wondered, deflating by the second. The theater was filling back up and she followed the current of the audience. She automatically kept searching, the pit of doubt in her stomach getting deeper and deeper by the second. Could they really not be here…? It didn’t seem possible. Since they were little tots, all three triplets had had plenty of events like this. Dance recitals, plays, science fairs, art shows, talent shows. Like tonight, every once in a while their parents wouldn’t make it, but they had never ever ever missed each other. Not once. The Trips were each other’s biggest fans. They wouldn’t miss a thing, even if it was boring to them. They know how hard I’ve been working on this…

But do they? Things had been so weird lately. She’d been so wrapped up in working on the play and her stupid pesky feelings clogging up the works. She knew she’d told them it was opening night. It was marked in pink on the calendar on the fridge and the one by her bed and the one by her desk in the den. They were distracted to, though, ever since they’d gone on that mission to find the sea snake thingy they’d been so caught up in adventure stuff. Mabel reached the little steps to the stage and looked back over the audience. The lights were flashing in the lobby to communicate the end of intermission, and the last few stragglers were trickling in. With a clear view of everyone like this, there was no denying it.

They’re not here. They really didn’t come. Mabel tried to banish the tears from her eyes as she hurried back into the wings. She was on autopilot now, straightening collars and flattening out creases. The joy of it had left her. The play was going well, the costumes looked fantastic, but what the hell did it matter? They forgot me.

Chapter 15: A Chat With Mystery Monthly

“Well, let me tell you, that is just incredible!” Matt Michaloff said over speakerphone, “You two sound like quite the young adventurers!”

“Thanks, Mr. Michaloff,” Dipper said, with that starstruck tone he’d had in his voice for the entire interview.

“Please, Dipper, please,” Matt said laughing.

“Right, Matt, sorry,” Dipper said, his cheeks reddening at having his manners corrected yet again.

“Sorry, Matt,” Jo cut in, “My brother’s a bit of a dweeb.”

Matt laughed politely, “Well, he’s a lot cooler than I was in High School, I’ll tell ya that much.”

“Oh, really?” Dipper’s voice cracked slightly, “Ha, thanks, Matt,” Dipper said, with the bashful smile Jo harbored a secret love for, “Did you have any other questions?”

“No, I don’t think so, Dipper,” he said, with the sound of some sheets of paper rustling, “You guys gave me so much great material! Thank you again for making time for the interview so promptly.”

“Yeah, o-of course, no problem!”

“Do you know when this issue’s coming out?” Jo asked eagerly.

“Well, we’re hoping to have it hitting the presses in the next two weeks,” Matt said, “But don’t you fear, you two will be getting a box of advance copies.” Dipper and Jo grinned at each other. Advance copies?! Jo thought excitedly, that sounds so legit! Matt rustled his papers again, “If you two have nothing to add, I think I’ll be saying goodnight to you. I’m eager to get to work on this story.”

“Thanks, Matt!” Jo squeaked, as Dipper said a polite ‘goodnight’ and ended the call.

“Ooooooooooooh my god!” Dipper wailed excitedly, the second the call disconnected, “Oh my god!”

Jo leapt to her feet, full of thrilled nervous energy, “That was so so so freaking cool!” She hopped excitedly from one foot to the other, “That was-- hoh my god!”

“Right?!” Dipper agreed, his eyes gleaming with exhilaration. He hopped to his feet and offered Jo a fist bump with each hand, “Fuckin’ Mystery Kids, man!”

“MysteryKidsMysteryKidsMysteryKiiiiids!” Jo chanted, punching fist bump after fist bump rapidly against her brother’s knuckles.

“You did so good, Jo-jo,” Dipper said, grinning ear to ear, his cheeks still flushed, “You were so cool and casual and like, poised, not a fangirly dork like me.”

“Oh, cram it!” Jo said, directing one of her punches for Dipper’s shoulder instead of his hand, “You were a total boss, bro-tective!  You put the man in Dip-man! You were professional as shit.”

“As shit, huh?” Dipper joked, but she could see his shoulders straighten with a hint of pride.

“Yeah, you and Matt had like this awesome rapport goin’ on,” Jo teased, “Like you were the same species and you recognized each other. I had to interrupt a few times there, ‘cause the sexual tension was just, whoa, through. the. roof.”

Dipper had just wiped the grin from his face when Jo elicited the coy, playful crooked one. He ran a hand through his hair from brow to neck, “Oh yeah? Well, how could ole Matt resist this?”

It was so rare that Jo had a chance to see Dipper exuberant and cocky like this. Normally so reserved and responsible, although there was no end to his dry jokes, he rarely let himself play around quite like this. With me and Mabes in the house, there’s already a surplus of silly, Jo noted, It’s a shame. Silly Dip is the cutest Dip. He was still making a show of some idea of manliness, flexing his flimsy biceps and making some attempt at bedroom eyes. Without warning, he grabbed Jo by the waist and dipped her low, as if he knew the first thing about dance.

It didn’t matter. It worked. It ripped Jo right from her thoughts and into his hands, warm and strong, broad against her lower back. His eyes were gleaming darkly, his hair falling softly over his brow, his cheeks pink, his lips just curled in a crooked smile. His lips were like a magnet, like the tastiest morsel of food hung over her and she was starving. Her heart was bouncing around her chest with the thrill of the interview and every beat seemed to push her closer and closer to the invitation of Dipper’s lips.

What the hell are you doing?? She screamed at herself, tugging herself awkwardly from Dipper’s grip. He gave her a perplexed look and she saw the small crease knit between his brows, concerned that he’d offended her, “Jo?” he asked tentatively.

“I’m gonna, uhh, go wash my face,” Jo muttered, unable to meet his eyes. She scurried from the room and into the bathroom, shutting the door a tad too hard behind her. She leaned her back against it, her eyes tickled by tears, trying desperately to slow her frantic heartbeat. You stupid, selfish freak! You could have ruined everything! Jo covered her face with her hands, That was way too freaking close.

Chapter 16: Confrontation

Mabel parked the music department van by the mailbox, right behind Aoshima. Right where it has been, this whole time, Mabel griped bitterly. She realized she’d been holding her breath and made a point of letting it out. She looked at the house apprehensively. Mom’s car was gone, meaning she and dad were still out on their date. Mabel hoped she’d worn the red sweater she’d suggested. The lights were on in the living room, as well as Dipper’s room upstairs. Her heart twinged. They’re in there.

She opened the door and got out, cutting across the lawn to the front door. It had been a long day and her body was weary, but she didn’t feel it. Anger was coursing hot and livid through her veins, stronger than any amount of sugar or caffeine. Her hand was shaking as she turned the key in the lock and entered her house.

Without slowing down, as if pulled by a magnet, Mabel made her way swiftly up the stairs. She reached the second floor as the bathroom door shut hard, just shy of slamming. Dipper’s head poked out of his bedroom door, looking towards the bathroom, after Jolene, Mabel assumed. Mabel stopped in the hall a few paces away from him and crossed her arms, glaring at the back of her brother’s head. What the hell is so interesting about Jo going in the flipping bathroom?! Impatient for Dipper’s attention, having been denied it when she thought it was guaranteed, Mabel pulled her purse from her shoulder and dropped it loudly on the ground.

Dipper nearly jumped out of his skin at the loud thud behind him. He whirled around to find Mabel standing in the hallway, and the sight of her was scarier than the noise had been. She almost didn’t look like Mabel. She was dressed all in black, from head to toe, a black long-sleeved tee shirt and black leggings, glowering at him. Her cheeks were pink and her brown eyes glittering angrily, accusingly. Dipper felt the blood rush from his face. Did she see that? Did she see Jo almost…? Dipper glanced back towards the bathroom, See what, asshole? She wasn’t gonna kiss you, it was all in your twisted up head.

“What the hell, bro,” Mabel said. Her voice was dangerously low, a tone rarely heard that Dipper knew meant business. He looked back at her at once.

“Uh, hi… Mabes,” He said, uneasy under her glare.

“Don’t ‘hi Mabes’ me,” Mabel shook her head, crossing her arms. It was seriously off-putting to see her dressed in black. He was tempted to ask who’d died, but had the sense that they might be his last words.

“Oookay,” Dipper said cautiously, unsure what he was supposed to say if ‘hi’ was out.

“So,” Mabel urged, raising an eyebrow, “What the heck is your excuse?” Dipper blinked at her, desperately trying to come up with an excuse, and an explanation to himself as to what needed excusing. Mabel raised her voice a little, “What happened tonight?”

What happened tonight? Finally! A question he knew the answer to! He knew what had happened tonight, so long as he left out the almost-kissing-Jo part, “Oh! The interview! It went great! It--”

“The...interview…?” Mabel asked, cocking her head cluelessly.

“Yeah, the interview!” Dipper smiled a little, confused by chasing Mabel’s signals this way and that, “With Mystery Monthly about--”

“The interview?!” Mabel spat at him, cutting him off, her eyes suddenly blazing, “That--that is what you were doing tonight?!”

“Umm,” Dipper fidgeted, “Yes?”

“Of course!” Mabel threw up her hands and gave a derisive laugh, “Of course! Of fucking course that’s what you were doing tonight!” Dipper opened his mouth to ask what was going on as she took a step closer to him, “Of course, your stupid mystery thing was more important than my play!”

Oh, shit.

Dipper’s blood ran cold. The play. Everything suddenly clicked into place, opening up a hole in the pit of his stomach. The play, the play, the play. Oh my god, the play was tonight. He accidentally muttered the last part out loud, “Ohmygod, the play was tonight.”

“Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding!” Mabel verified facetiously, “The play was tonight and, for the record, it was off-the-charts awesome. Not like you care.”

“It was just opening night, though, right?” Dipper supplicated, holding out his palms, trying to find a solution, “We’ll go tomorrow--”

“Oh, gee whiz, Dip,” Mabel rolled her eyes, “Heartwarming as it is to be an afterthought, that’s really not the flippin’ point at all!”

Ouch, Dipper winced, his hands dropping to his sides, “Mabes, you’re not an afterthought…”

“Yeah?” She scoffed, “Because it sure feels that way! This play has been the only stinking thing I talked about for weeks!” She took another step toward him, angry tears sparkling in her eyes, “I have lived and breathed ‘Twelfth Night’! I have sewed and glued until my fingers bled! I have gone to school early and come home late and you,” she scowled and Dipper’s heart ached, seeing the hurt just under the veneer of her anger, “You--you guys were, were happy to have me gone!”

“That’s not fair, Mabes,” Dipper said, how could she say that? He tried to resist the anger blooming inside him, “That is so not fair. Just because we forgot--”

“Ugggh!” Mabel’s hands clenched into fists, “But you didn’t just forget the play!” She took another step, glaring up at him, “You forgot me! Did you even wonder where I was? While I was looking for you in the audience, in the lobby, out in the parking lot, did you once think ‘Hm, where’s Mabel tonight?’ ” She pointed at him, “No! The whereabouts of stupid Nessie is more important to you than your own sister!”

“What the fuck, Mabel!” Dipper’s anger flared, eating up the unfair accusations like kindling, “You can’t compare Tessie to how--”

“Oh excuuuuse me,” Mabel mocked, “Tessie, not Nessie. Of course I would mix that up, silly stupid Mabel can’t even--”

“Shut up!” Dipper interrupted, grabbing Mabel by her shoulders, “You’re not stupid! You--”

“No, Dipper, I am stupid!” Mabel disagreed, the tears welling in her eyes becoming harder and harder to keep at bay, “It was stupid of me to assume you’d be there, it was stupid of me to--”

“Mabel, no,” Dipper’s anger wilted at the sight of Mabel fighting tears, holding onto her anger so hard, turning it back on herself. His voice softened, “I should have been there. I know how important this was to you and it was selfish and careless of me to forget.” His hand moved from her shoulder to soothingly pet her hair, looking into her tear-glazed eyes, “You’re not stupid. You’re so completely not stupid. I’m stupid for getting so caught up in this contest thing. You know I love you.”

“I love you,” Mabel said softly, blinking hard, fat tears squeezing out from under her eyelids and rolling down her cheeks.

“I know, Mabes,” Dipper said, a little relieved that her anger seemed to have been extinguished.

“No,” Mabel shook her head, and met his gaze again. His stomach dropped, confused by the deep sadness in her eyes, “I love you, Dipper. I love you.”

“Mabel, I don’t--” Before DIpper could blink, he was cut off by Mabel’s lips crushed against his own. She had thrown her arms around his neck and wobbled on her tiptoes, and he leaned down his head towards her, allowing her to rest back on her heels as he eagerly met her kiss. To him she tasted like ice cream and apple pie and just like glitter would taste if it was made of candy and her tears were salty but her lips were soft and Dipper’s mind was shutting down as his body was waking up. His arms went around her and hugged her to him and god she was so small and soft and he could feel her trembling as her anger went out of her. A voice in his head was screaming what’s happening? What’s happening? What do you think you’re doing? What the hell is happening? But it was quiet compared to the sound of Mabel’s almost inaudible sigh against him. Her sigh was in his mouth and a stray thought wondered how her voice could taste so good.

The haze of Mabel that enveloped Dipper like a cotton candy dream shattered with the sound of Jolene’s shocked cry.

Continue to Part 5

[easy-win-games-blog]

STILL GOOD? — GRAND THEFT AUTO III

This is ‘Still Good?’, an editorial series in which I look back at both favourites games of mine and classics that I somehow missed, working out how these titles stack up today and whether or not they’re worth going back to.

tl;dr — has <insert game> aged well?

That said, let’s dig into Grand Theft Auto III.

Originally released in 2001 for the PS2 GTA 3 was hailed by critics and fans as a landmark in video game design. Its core gameplay mechanics — driving, shooting and navigating an open world — had all been seen before, but this marked the first instance of these mechanics being put together in a seamless and (for lack of a better word) good way. Mix this with elements of The Sopranos and the popular gangster movies of the time and you’ve got one spicy meat-a-ball.

Upon its release it received fantastic reviews across the board, sitting on an aggregate score of 97% (Metacritic) for the PS2 version. It was called, "a luscious, sprawling epic,” a, "technological marvel ... that captures the essence of gritty city life in amazing detail,” and "on a scale that's truly epic” (quotes lifted from Wikipedia). From here on out, aided by various other releases of the time, the gaming landscape was irreversibly shifted towards a focus on cinematic storytelling and open-world settings. It’s become difficult to not find traces of GTA 3’s DNA floating around a most modern releases.

It’s also very easy to get ahold of today. A mobile version was released for its 10th anniversary, but if you prefer something more solid it’s also available on the desktop App Store for Mac, Steam and on Xbox 360 through backwards compatibility if you can find a hard copy.

This sure is a celebrated classic, but it really hasn’t aged well.

If you’ve gone ahead and put in the work by reading my About page you’ll know I go hardcore with the GTA series. GTA 3 especially introduced me to mature video games in a way that I’ll never forget, but unlike other classics of the medium like the 2D Mario games it’s really tough to go back. I finished the game in high school on a MacBook using a trackpad, and recently bought it and Vice City on eBay for Xbox (these versions received various graphical improvements over the PS2 version) and have played maybe half of 3 so far since then.

But it’s hard, man. I love GTA but I’m honestly struggling to continue. It’s a weird case because I can look past its dated graphics and the driving is fine, but nearly everything else is just frustrating. My major gripe with playing this game now is that the controls are absolutely shitted. Locking on to enemies is vague, both in the sense that it only sometimes works with certain weapons and that the lock on rectangle is very transparent. Combat lacks any kind of possible finesse and relies upon a lot of dumb luck and blind button mashing, and moving Claude around feels like I’m controlling a marionette puppet.

And the camera…

There’s a strange feature I’ve found both in GTA 3 and Vice City on Xbox, and I’m not exactly sure if it was apparent on PC or PS2 (but I’m probably wrong). The option to rotate the camera around your player, whether you want to focus on enemies or check out the scenery, is gone. Completely. Instead, when you move the right stick, the camera jumps into a first-person perspective from which you can’t actually do anything. No walking, no combat. Its only really purpose is to change what direction you’re looking (duh), which is just slow and painful. Especially in combat because you have to stop, change the camera, and then move or perform some kind of action to go back out to third-person.

Imagine, if you will…

A mission tells you to go into Chinatown.

Easy, you get there.

But uh oh, you’ve been ambushed by gun and baseball bat-wielding Triads!

You pull out your Uzi and pump a clip into one guy at your 12 o’clock, but three more guys on your 6 you have opened fire!

You act fast, and duck into first person mode.

Five seconds later you’ve turned to face your foes, and have lost half of your health in that time. Now, to lock on.

In a daring move, you lock onto Triad #1 on your right, shoot two rounds and wait for another three seconds while you automatically reload (something that can’t be done manually).

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

You got him! Well done! You’ve also got next to no health.

Time to aim at the next pistol-packing Triad.

But uh oh again, you’ve locked onto someone with a baseball bat instead. You can’t switch your target on the fly, silly, and now you have six guys in total all around you shooting and beating you to death.

You’re dead, good luck next time.

As 2K18 gamer bro, this is frustrating as hell. And this happens constantly. A lot of combat scenarios, in my case at least, came down to me trying over and over again and succeeding only by shepherding the AI into a tight pack and using up the five molotov cocktails I’d scrounged to burn them all alive like a pack of zombies.

I was too young to be involved in the original hype of this game, but I imagine there was a big emphasis on strategy and player freedom in the marketing leading up to the game’s release. I get that, and GTA 3 sure is revolutionary on that front, but by today’s standards it just isn’t good. When the game at hand has a focus on combat and action it’s not a good thing when success comes from manipulating the infrastructure of the game itself. I don’t feel like I’m playing it the way it was meant to be played, but I don’t see any other option.

To make my point clearer, take the example of Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. There are a lot of points in this game where you’re surrounded by enemies, who mostly all have guns. There’s no cover-based shooting or anything of that sort in San Andreas, but the fluidity and freedom of the movement with the ability to crouch, walk while crouched, jump and vault over obstacles, strafe, free aim and lock onto and attack enemies without having them in your immediate line of sight really make the difference. Just the ability to freely rotate the camera around CJ and switch lock-on targets make combat scenarios infinitely more strategic and playable than GTA 3.

Sure, San Andreas only exists because of 3’s legacy, but in three short years so much of the Grand Theft Auto formula was refined by intuitive but glaringly obvious improvements for San Andreas, making it now so much easier to go back to than 3. I would put San Andreas, a now 14 year old game, in front of any gamer in 2018, tell them to play it and be confident they would have fun and play with a full sense of control.

The other area where GTA 3 really lacks is in its narrative elements.

In the game you play as Claude, a mute blank slate of a man who wasn’t actually given a name until a one-off skippable phone call in San Andreas. At the beginning of the game we find Claude robbing a bank with his girlfriend, Catalina, who betrays him as they make their getaway with the line, "Sorry babe. I'm an ambitious girl, and you're just small time.”

Immediately, there’s confusion. Stylistically, it’s cool for sure. There’s shotguns and convertibles and action, but who is this lady? Why do her ambitions stop her from robbing banks with her lover (something they have been doing together for around nine years)? She must just be psycho or something, because she jumps in a sports car with some other guy, so to her it’s more beneficial to share the money with the getaway driver than with your long-term boyfriend. What’s more, Claude can’t explain any of this because he can’t talk, so these questions linger for the whole game and never get answered.

You can see here by making Claude the blank slate that he is that it’s likely the intention from Rockstar was to let the player use the mute as a vessel through which they could project themselves, personifying the game with their own personal flavour. Only, there are numerous and very definitive displays of Claude’s character throughout the game that the player might not agree with.

Character defining moments for a character who isn’t meant to have character.

For Christ’s sake, it’s implied he shoots a woman point blank at the end of the game because she talks too much.

It’s a weird half measure. It feels like Rockstar were trying to toe the line between an open world RPG packed with player personalisation and a fully scripted cinematic experience like Goodfellas. They’ve learned since, and their campaigns have been largely compelling ever since, but this feels like a big misstep.

Also, a minor issue I have; the cutscenes and cinematic moments of this game look like dog shit. The direction, cinematography and pacing of nearly every cutscene is awful. Claude will walk to someone’s door and knock, only to be answered an instant later by immediate talk as if this other character intuitively knew he was there. The shots will cut out parts of character’s faces, sometimes ending at their forehead or mouth, and as the cutscenes conclude it isn’t uncommon for Claude to start heading for the exit as the mission boss is still mid-sentence, as if he also intuitively knows the conversation is about to end. Even if the mission parameters haven’t been outlined yet. It’s almost as if the residents of Liberty City have been endowed with psychic abilities (but only in 2001 because Liberty City Stories is much more aligned with the rest of the series in this regard [maybe it’s something in the water]).

Coming from later GTA games, this just doesn’t feel like GTA.

The story overall is also just bland. It’s the most generic revenge plot you could imagine, with some out-of-nowhere betrayals such as that of Salvatore Leone — the local Mob boss.

After completing a number of tasks, both extremely dangerous and tedious, the Don congratulates you on your achievements and your loyalty to the Leone family. This feels pretty good, especially since the missions immediately preceding this moment are a hellish cluster fuck full of shoddy AI and stupid mission design. And you know what? He’s right. You have been loyal to him. You’ve done literally everything he’s told you to do and more. As this happens, he asks you to collect a car parked somewhere Downtown. So, like the good little Mafia errand boy you are, you skip down the hill to get it, only to be sent a page from Salvatore’s girlfriend of all people that the car is a trap and that you’re about to be murdered. Surely enough, the car is rigged with explosives, so your only option is to actually betray Salvatore and flee the first island with his girlfriend as you plot your (second) revenge.

It’s simply not good writing. There’s no cause and effect, no setting up of any kind. You are blank man. You work for blank Mafia man. But blank Mafia man turns on you, because he is bad Mafia man after all. You get blank revenge. It’s high school shit.

Just like Catalina. Take that blank man example, but substitute ‘black Mafia man’ with ‘blank girl’. It’s bad writing.

When it comes to games and movies it becomes hard to define what is good, especially in cases where legacy and nostalgia are involved. Super Mario Bros. 3 or World or whatever might be a better game than OG Super Mario Bros., but you might see OG Super Mario Bros. as the better game because it gave birth to what came after it. In my opinion that’s a really weird viewpoint to have, especially since gaming culture is so focussed on iteration and improvement. Some see it as sacrilege to say an old classic just doesn’t play well, but that’s the case because games as a medium inherently get better as we improve the craft and polish the development process.

With this in mind, and everything else I’ve already said, Grand Theft Auto III is not a good game in 2018. It’s not fun and it doesn’t control well. The story is bad and the moment-to-moment writing is no better. From a historical stance, I think it’s definitely worth playing, but if GTA V was your first introduction to the series and you want to explore its past GTA 3 is not the place to start.

STILL GOOD?

Not really, no

Am I completely wrong? Is my subjective opinion too subjective? Did I forget to mention how much San Andreas fleshes out both Salvatore Leone and Catalina and their character arcs in this game? Shoot (pew) me a message up top through the Ask Me Anything link OR hit me up on Twitter @easy_win_games.

Illustration left-to-right: Catalina, Maria, Asuka, Kenji, Donald Love, Toni, Luigi, 8-Ball, Salvatore Leone. Claude in the foreground.

- Editorial & illustration brewed in-house -