Grand Theft Auto V - the chilling truth

October 25th, 2011, 23:15 Posted By: wraggster

“The basement. Twenty one hundred. Come alone.”
It was with those cold, steely words ringing in my ears from a mystery telephone conversation earlier that day that last night I made my way down to the Intent Media basement to meet with a highly secretive Rockstar contact.
As I closed the basement door behind I was left in complete darkness. All that alerted me to the presence of another was the sound of strained breathing, the inhalation of a cigarette, the coughing of tight lungs.
My initial questions (“Seriously, how the feck did you get in the basement? And why the feck are we meeting in the basement anyway? There’s a new Costa Coffee just around the corner?”) were met with silence.
As my eyes adjusted to the dark I could see a shadowy figure staring me down from the far side of the filing cabinet. The figure had something on their head – a mask of sorts, fashioned from a paper bag. A paper bag from Costa. He knew about the new Costa, but chose to liaise in the basement anyway. My suspicion peaked.
He wore a white, buttoned shirt, worn jeans, old and well-worn brown leather shoes and a name badge that simply said “Sam – Happy to Help”.
He beckoned my to a makeshift shelter he had fashioned out of toner cartridge boxes and sheet bubble wrap in front of the MCV archive. We sat and he began frantically sketching pictures of cities and vehicles on a limestone slate with a red stick of chalk.
The chalk snapped. He grunted – I wouldn’t call it a scream – ate the chalk, and produced a fresh, unused blue stick from his shirt breast pocket.
“A new audience,” he muttered, though at first I was unsure whether he was addressing me directly or was absentmindedly talking to himself.
“New devices, new gamers,” he said more loudly, his crazed and blood shot red eye focused squarely on me now through a hole in the bag. “It’s not about the disc, it’s not about the platform. It’s about service, IT’S ABOUT ACCESSIBILITY.”
Seemingly agitated, I took a moment to compose myself before addressing Sam.
“It’s OK,” I said calmly. “It’s OK, I won’t hurt you. I’m a friend. My name is Ben. Please Sam, tell me. Tell me why you beckoned me here on this cold and dark autumn night?”
“I don’t understand,” he said, again almost as if to himself as he began to sketch what appeared to be an Xbox 360 joypad on the rear of the limestone. “They used joypads for years. They were fine. Our controller layout for GTA IV was spot on, responsive. Easy. WE SIMULATED A WHOLE WORLD USING TEN BUTTONS, TWO STICKS AND A D-PAD. Do none of them care? Does that count for nothing?”
Sam was now rocking on the spot, fingering his beard that peeked from the bottom of the bag. I leant closer and placed a hand on his knee.
“What do you mean, Sam? What is it you want to tell me about joypads.”
“TO HELL WITH JOYPADS,” came his screamed reply, his withered and filthy hands grabbing me by either side of the face. “We don’t NEED joypads. 3DS, iOS, Kinect, Move. Exclusive for those Grand Theft Auto V will be.”
I held his stare until his grip on my face eased. Realising now what was happening, that Rockstar had chosen me and the Intent Media basement to reveal all about Grand Theft Auto V. I reached for my notepad and, without any sudden movements, began to write as quickly as I could.
“Kinect and Move will keep us in touch with our core audience, yes,” Sam continued as he started to pull roughly at his beard. “But the iOS version, yes, that’s what will bring us the mass-market. Twenty two million sales for GTA IV? That’s nothing. NOTHING. The world is ready to welcome the seven billionth member of this miserable little race, and they expect ME to be happy with twenty two million?”
At this point Sam begun to sob, assuming the foetal position.
“But mass markets? How does that tie in with a 3DS version?” I asked before I had chance to think about whether I should be provoking him or not.
“BAH!” Sam screamed before jumping to his feet, pacing back and forth across the basement.
“Reggie…” he mumbled. “Reggie. Said he’d ‘ave me if I didn’t. I had to. Didn’t want to, you understand. Got a two-man team on it. Just gonna re-size the assets of the iOS version.” A small smile and cackle emerged from his dry, cracked lips. I leapt on the chance to probe further.
“But Sam, this isn’t 2008,” I said slowly. “This is 2011. People want Call of Duty. They want CityVille. They want to play against friends on Facebook. Shouldn’t you just concentrate on your core audience?”
Sam froze where he stood. Then, with the speed of rabid cheetah, he leapt for me, grabbing my by the collar and thrusting me into the air. “FOOL!” he howled, before tossing me into the pile of old Apple keyboards and non-functioning mice.
“I’m the man who made Grand Theft Auto. GRAND THEFT AUTO!” he shouted, crouched over me as I whimpered amongst the peripherals.
“Those witless fools live to serve MY whimsy. To serve MY design. There will be DLC, you see,” he added, stooping low to meet my eye. It felt as if he was almost seeking my approval.
“Order from GAME and GTA V will be set in New York, order from Amazon and it’s LA, from HMV it’ll be Detroit, from Zavvi it will be Skegness. You see? DO YOU SEE? They will be FRENZIED. The children. The CONSUMERS. They will kill to get my game. MY GAME. You’ve seen your London youth, how they loot and riot when they want things. THEY WILL WANT MY THINGS.
“And even when the mindless idiots have MY game, they’ll still want more. We’ll release the other cities, see. Premium DLC. PREMIUM. 1200 Microsoft points for Black Ops map pack? 2400 Microsoft points for a Forza 4 Season Pass? FORZA CAN SUCK MY DICK. We’re talking premium. PREMIUM. 3600 Points! Yes, THREE THOUSAND SIX HUNDRED. For the season pass. And you’ll get all the cities. All of them!
“And better yet,” he continued, slowly pulling away from me starting to perform a kind of prance. “Get the Season pass and you’ll get the content before anyone else. ALL THE CONTENT. FIRST. Those other ****ers will have to wait hours, maybe even days to get their hands on it.”
Then, with no warning, he hurled himself at me once more, grabbing both my hands and forcing me to my feet, dragging me into his crazed dance.
“AND IF THEY DON’T PRE-ORDER THE GAME THEY WON’T GET ANY CARS, SEE! NONE AT ALL. LICENSED OR OTHRWISE” he laughed to himself, twirling me in ever accelerating circles.
“AND THE BEST THING IS THEY CAN’T COMPLAIN. You can get about on foot, y’see! On foot. We’ve given the character better stamina this time, see? And you ccan make him more fit by making him go to the gym.
“‘We’re not punishing those who don’t buy the game, they can still traverse the world, but to reward those loyalist to the GTA brand they will be given access to vehicles’ is what I’ll say. HA HA! And there’s nothing they can do. NOTHING!”
Then, as suddenly as his frenzy had begun, it stopped.
Sam let go of my hands. He drew his paper bag back tight over his head and held himself as if suddenly gripped by cold. Without word, he simply gestured towards the door.
I was unsure what to do, with so many more questions to ask. But the bony, blood-stained finger that pointed to my exit was warning enough. Slowly, I put the lid back on my medium BIC and carefully back-stepped toward the door.
As my hand reached for the handle, the silence was suddenly broken.
“November 2^nd,” the motionless figure called. “It begins. November 2^nd.” And with that he vanished into a puff of smoke. Leaving me alone in the basement, with nothing to show for it aside from this chilling story.

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