Grand Theft-Anory

Allow me to tell you a short story. It won’t take long, I promise.

I got home late last night. Something needed doing, and lucky me, I got the call. But hey, I got a solid six hours kip so I can’t really complain. It was also a beautiful morning, which helped. It’s nice to wake up on a day like this and know that you don’t have anything pressing to do for a change. I took a walk down the street, picked up a breakfast hotdog on the way and pondered what to do with the rest of my day. One phone call later and Michelle had somewhat reluctantly agreed to go out with me again, and I was to pick her up in an hour.

Right, so now I know what I’m doing with my hard earned time off. Next question. What to wear? Last time we went out she didn’t like my suit and pointed out that my polished black loafers looked stupid. I go casual. I get back into the car I left parked outside last night and head on up to her apartment to pick her up.

She says I look good, and that she particularly likes my glasses. Result, all going well so far. She leaves our destination up to me, so I pick that dingy Irish bar I’d spotted the other day. A couple of drinks to see loosen up a little, and see where we go from there.

An hour or two later, we leave the bar. I’m supremely tanked. Completely steaming. Absolutely clockfaced. Michelle’s moaning at me that it’s probably not a good idea for me to drive and that we should get a taxi back to her place. Screw you, woman, I’m fine to drive.

This is where it all goes a little wonky. I remember accidentally shooting her in the knees a couple of times. Then I think she stumbled a little bit…maybe into the road? Yeah, definitely into the road. That explains how she got hit by that SUV. And then that sedan coming the other way.

That’s when she told me that she didn’t want to see me again for a while. Bugger.

A long, lonely taxi ride home on my own, then. What a way to end a day, eh? As I get in the opening licks of 1979 by the Smashing Pumpkins come on the radio. My driver tells me he’ll take the long way round, but I don’t really care. I settle back into my seat. I’ve got all the time in the world, pal.

The sky suddenly grows cloudy, the light fading rapidly. A rumble of thunder announces the downpour and the people unlucky enough to be caught outside run for cover.

Corgan’s still on the radio. I take another look out of my window. The city looks beautiful in the rain.

I smile, I sigh. What a way to end a day. Perfect.

And then there’s me, the real me this time, sat on my sofa with my feet up sipping a chilled beverage, smiling. I’ve had a “moment”.

You could apply the usual metrics of quality, but then you'd be missing something. See, the story is superb, the characters are superb, the graphics are superb, the sound is superb, and the "gameplay" (in the traditional sense) is superb. But this is a Grand Theft Auto game, those should be givens.

Sure, the huge open world and the freedom to do almost anything is a given as well, but we've never had the amount of depth that we do here. It's simply staggering. And as deep as the world is, you're eased into it with a care and a delicacy which ensures that you're never overwhelmed, yet by the same token never left champing at the bit. It's masterfully done, it really is.

Packed with such moments, with stories, with humanity, random minutia, unique experiences and unexpected results, GTA IV is so much more than your standard, run of the mill game. Forget the mass-media coverage that cheapens the experience with yawnsome stories of extreme violence (there are far more violent games out there if that's what you want) and concentrate on what GTA IV is - an epic, lovingly crafted, cheekily-humorous and satirical take on crime-fiction which will keep you entertained for months.

Review by: Iain Thomas
Version Tested: X360
Review Published: 02.05.08