I take my hat off and wipe the sweat and dirt from my brow. The sun beats down on the bone-dry plains, skewing my view, the horizon rippling with the heat. Around me lie four men, gaping bullet wounds still oozing shiny red. A pack of vultures circles overhead, one swooping down presuming a meal. I draw my revolver and take a shot, downing the hungry bird. I take its feathers; I’ll sell them later, maybe get enough for a gin at the saloon. I take one last glance at one of the bodies, a man dressed different from the rest. It was he who I was saving, supposed to be anyway, that is. The scum got the better of him this time, got the better of me. Can’t win ’em all.
I whistle, and my strong, black beauty of a steed comes careening over a hill. She stops by my side, and I give her a reassuring touch as I vault onto her back. Kicking my heels, she cries out and peels off, quick as lightning. As I pound toward the horizon, town of Armadillo my destination, I hear a cry. I glance to my right; a woman is in trouble, battling a couple of rat bastard banditos, intent on having their way with her. I pull back on the reigns and draw my side-arm. In the Wild West, it never ends.
That is just a small tale, one of the millions that can be found in Rockstar’s latest epic, Red Dead Redemption. It’s a game I’ve been clamouring to play since it was announced over a year ago, and it doesn’t disappoint. Let me tell you the tale of the game that finally makes all your Wild West dreams come true.