I’d like to believe that I posses a regimented tolerance for a litany of potentially belligerent areas of social commentary or at least a discriminate virtue of clemency and muted ignorance of certain influences. For instance the abstinence of general courtesies that merely require a cordial “thank you” or “please” from some surly characters. The often repellent, but commercially acceptable influence of reality TV and though I’m not as overly judicious in appraising them as morally lenient which is a commendably mandatory summation, I do worry that impressionable adults are being duped by the delusion of their idyllic grandeur. And I adopt a posture of resolute serenity and enigmatic resolve when antagonized by clandestine aggressors that ridicule my performance and bask in their own adulating consummations with sulphuric articulation, abbreviated vernaculars and latent dimensions of English vocabulary. What really ruptures my stoic temperament is the repugnant excess of animal cruelty, perpetuated in this instance by the simulated malice and the sudden affinity for poaching creatures that pose no immediate or direct threat to my perennial mortality, with no real benefit for its immediate extraction. In Assassins Creed harpooning whales is recreational, in GTA V you can shoot deer’s with an ambivalent shrug. But nowhere is the secretion of palpable revulsion more apparent that in Red Dead Redemption, or more specifically; Undead Nightmare.
Perhaps I’m being needlessly critical to align such criticism at a game steeped in procedural mythology and cavorting with formulaic narrative associated with the derivative pronouncement of yet more, apocalyptic annihilation at the decomposing hands of the undead. But despite the remedial countenance, it still retains a pedalling heart. Though the wild west was invariably habited by a litany of wild boar, elk and other indigenous wildlife, there is one creature that suitably vocalise the melancholic suffering; Big foot. The visitation of a mythological entity–or if you like, prudently subverted primate–is certainly ripe for agnostic conjecture, but irrespective of its fabled existence the poignant discussion between the eponymous protagonist John Marston and the wistful Sasquatch, demonstrates humanities malignant ignorance and moralistic antipathy for a species evisceration. The culminated sobriety of your belated actions is evident and is an exemplary illustration of man kinds potent affinity for destruction. Though your under no obligatory duress to annihilate an entire species with calculated perversity, your idle compliance to condemn this hedonistic Wookies to extinction is genocidal paradigm, leaving you with only a disdainful finality; should you merely leave the solitary figure, slumped and castigating your presence, whimpering pleadingly as its mourns the passing of its perished family, fully comprehending the muteness of his existence, knowing that with the desolation of its aberration there is no prodigy to continue the dynasty. Or is it more benevolent to end its innate suffering? Even simulated morality is malevolent sadist.
Is there too much needless animal cruelty in games? Or simply additional content for fictitious medium? Let me know your views. Cheers.