Red Dead Redemption has become my latest haunt since Modern Warfare 3 devoured all my friends.
It's wonderful. A bright, vibrant, violent, dangerous and depressing wild west filled with various contrasting philosophies, creeds, races and nationalities.
It's like real life but better.
I rarely get lost in a game like I get lost in Red Dead. One minute I'm changing my son's nappy and kissing him goodnight, the next I'm galloping through the wilderness on my trusty steed searching for Buffalo.
At times I feel as if it's replicating how I would fare in situations similar to those that John gets himself into. While climbing up a mountainside to spy on a gang I tumbled multiple times from the top to the very bottom. I'm crap at climbing.
Red Dead also has an amazing ability to make me care about characters. Late in the game (spoiler alert!) you meet a native American chap called Nastas with whom you spend very little time, but who's death devastated me as I'd grown to really enjoy the character. No longer will I hear him wearily attempting to explain simple concepts to the Professor, no more will he be the voice of reason on our short trips.
Nastas is gone.
I'm no more a cowboy than I am a chocolate biscuit but Red Dead Redemption has certainly made me feel like one.
Bravo, Rockstar. Bravo.
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