An Inherent Vice….City

Decisions, decisions. What does one do when faced with a such a privileged, consumerist predicament? Such as purchasing a remake smeared in perfunctory veneer that gives the impression of something refined, but ultimately winds up looking like someone has fired Homer Simpsons makeup gun at it? The remastered GTA trilogy couldn’t be more nostalgic for me if it came packaged with Power Rangers and Turkey Twizzlers. Nostalgia is an absurd affliction really. One that manifests as a powerful recollection of memories that can also contort those lucid, biased evocations. Like convincing you that the Chuckle Brothers were funny. When it comes to Vice City, a game that fully capitalises on that nostalgia, I’m not sure an updated version can live up to such wistful standards.

My appreciation for Vice City was somewhat tarnished when I attempted to play and subsequently rekindle some of that fading nostalgic whimsy a couple of years ago. With the antiquated controls being a harsh reminder of the game’s ageing mechanics. Not that the targeting system was anything methodical in the first place, but coalesced with the PS2 graphics and character’s awkwardly gesturing their hostile intent with boxing glove hands, does diminish the spectacle of a crime drama somewhat. But the setting, tone and character’s were as endearing as I remembered. So, if the new trilogy collection can renovate these deteriorating facets, which looks unlikely judging by what I’ve seen, while retaining the same vibe and aesthetic of the original, as well as populating the barren City with a few more low rendered pedestrians, then this might be an cash-grab remaster worth investing in. With the one notable caveat: the retention of the music.

My biggest concern is that licensing for the various 80’s tunes has lapsed, thus compromising the diverse, quintessential tracks that gave Vice City its arresting ambience. The soundtrack was such a salient representation for establishing the games tone, that if Rockstar is unable to retain the licensing I just don’t think the game can replicate that sense of nostalgic catharsis adequately without it. Even a condensed playlist would jeopardise the whimsy.

Chances are, if you never played the original game, you aren’t going to be bothered by a few, if notable omissions. But for those of us that experienced this, probably at an age you shouldn’t, I think any alteration to that original soundtrack is going to severely undermine your sentimentality.

Why GTA’s Controversy Makes It So Alluring.

The most significant allure of gaming has always been escapism. The ability to manifest vicariously in a rudimentary world without the repressive boundaries of law and regulations. These are the required extremities of reality that enables humanity to sustain a semblance of moral equanimity, providing a safe moderated environment for communities to feel secure. For most of us committing a felony, however trivial are notions we wouldn’t dare consider in the real world. We are aware of our limitations in a civilised society and are dependent on the continued complicity of these rules to enforce stability. Which is why the absence of such measures provokes such shock, particularly when the circumstances are so unspeakably loathsome. Unfortunately the same outrage is often erroneously remonstrated against some inherently violent games, with a similar resentment applied to “Grand Theft Auto”. This particular series is in no way exclusively affiliated with media controversy, as many games that depict any kind of salacious content are adjudged as a corruptible influence on encouragable youths, which is like blaming performance enhancing drugs rather than Lance Armstrong for cheating. If someone crashes their car because they were speeding you blame the individual, not the vehicle for enabling them to drive so dangerously?! You can’t plead innocence when it was an entirely intentional decision, especially one bred from your own selfish volition. Call of Duty has been reproached for glorifying modern conflicts and war in general. Manhunt apparently encouraged a teenager to murder his friend, seemingly at the behest of an inanimate object. But there’s something more sensationalised about detailing the harmful influence an inert product has on an a kid, than the explicit behavioural deficiencies of one unstable individual that shouldn’t have been playing the game in the first place.
Gaming appears to ignite a very singular ignorance, with the media littered with heinous instances perpetrated by individuals with questionable psychological standings. Generating political interventions into matters that they don’t really understand. You then have inconclusive studies that suggest that these violent computer games “might” permanently afflict the fragile mind of a youth, but probably not. It’s hard to determine for certain that it doesn’t contribute at all, but when an incident does occur that can be attributed to a game, movie or television show – however tenuous the connection – it’s so highly publicised because of its unique severity that to me it’s blown out of all proportion. But any erstwhile censorship that is then applied to such content in an effort to regulate the distribution to under age consumers, only makes such games more enticing.

 

 

“Now why would anyone have a problem with throttling a pensioner? Just decreasing the surplus population! “

I purchased my first ever copy of GTA from a rather dubious retailer, that sadly went insolvent around 15 years ago. I was probably 11 or 12 years old at the time, when disclaimers and 18 certifications on a game were somewhat of an advisory stipulation rather than a law that you had to abide by. It was the original, top down view for the PS1 and I loved it. Played it for days. Not because it was violent or destructive, but because there was a free flowing environment for me to interact with, either positively or negatively. I was playing this series totally oblivious to the controversy surrounding it. Even at a young age I wasn’t concerned with the violence because I could discern between what was real or make believe. Here was a game that relished in exerting freedom, creating an affluent depiction of crime and rewarding mischievous behaviour. You could be considerate to pedestrians lives or callously run them down with a chuckle, before being pursued by cops that shoot first and read you your rights while you lie in a pool of your own excrement. Sure games are dictated by their own maniacal rules, the dutiful caveats of virtual reality like invisible walls, but rarely is that due to litigation or the enforcement of the law. Personally I don’t relish killing innocents or necessarily condone the reprehensible acts that you are encouraged to perpetrate in order to survive, but that’s kind of the point. GTA has always enforced a world without limitations, where you decide just how bad you can be. There’s something so effusive about severing the directorial shackles of mundane life that bounds us. To be uninhibited by the strict regulations of reality and embrace a skewed adherence to the formalities of perceived reality and just go a little bonkers.

 

“Despite its age and cumbersome controls, Vice City remains my favourite in the GTA series.”

The so called controversy so often affiliated with games like this just makes them more alluring. And I mean how violent is it really? I’d argue that Super Mario is an inherently violent game, encouraging children to stamp on defenceless animals and rescue women from castles who are no more than plot devices?! The Goombas don’t even have any arms to defend themselves! And if someone decided to start imitating that, by jumping on the heads of old men at bus stop you’d say that they were one stick short of a bundle. What’s the point of playing GTA if you can’t indulge in your subverted sociopathic inclinations? If you are that concerned with moralising artificial deaths then a world where Donald Trump can be elected President must terrify you (it does me too). I think anything that encourages cognitive and creative versatility can only be therapeutic for the mind. It’s cathartic to exercise the freedom to act out scenarios you couldn’t – and wouldn’t in reality and revoke the confines of social civility. To act without sustained retaliation and inhabit an alluring persona you would never want to be for more than a fleeting period. Some would call this unhealthy or even dangerous, a negative conciliation of exposed brutality that amalgamates into an encouraged hostility towards others, outside the confines of a fictional world. I call it fun. Nurturing that slightly anarchic inclination that is a rooted psychology buried deep below the surface in all of us.
The visceral intensity is one partial factor that attracts me to games like GTA. Shattering the conventions of normality by letting you be as good or as naughty as you choose, allowing any pent up frustrations to release gradually in an environment that doesn’t hurt anyone. But I also tend to gravitate towards games with robust environments. A fully interactive world that can be traversed and explored at my leisure. That to me represents the fundamental principles of a perfect game. Investing hours of time dedicated to exploration is rather time consuming, so rather than confining myself to one arbitrary errand I’d like to just takes some time out, explore, and perhaps run down a few hookers. And an open world game provides me with a versatile platform to engage in those primal instincts that have been dulled by the arbitrary exploits of my boring day at work. I can understand, for the uninitiated that is, how being confronted with public victimisation of the citizens, depicted so blatantly in GTA may seem horrifying, especially when flaunted as a viable alternative for entertainment. The violence could be considered gratuitous or even vile, if it were real. But it isn’t. It’s a work of fiction, like a book or film that depicts similar fictitious scenarios. And it’s GTA’s rueful attitude towards controversy that has allowed it to maintain its popularity, despite its contentious place in modern culture. If you’re discerning with genres or applying limitations then that just seems like compromise rather than expression.

For all of its scrutiny, its harsh satirical themes and graphic tones, GTA continues to be a rewarding series with more heart and soul than many AAA games on the market. Long may its explicit violence, abundance of (somehow?) concealed weaponry, reckless driving, diverse range of playable characters and, above all, vehicular thievery continue.

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What is your favourite GTA game? Let me know in the comments below. Cheers.

How GTA “Continues” To Ruin My Life!

Hello, my name is Karl and I’m GTAlcoholic. It’s a terminal condition, one allegedly benign as long as fomented harassment is averted with permanent intermission. The overture for my prostrated dependency formed from the simple elocution of GTA’s alluring influence, or words to that effect. It was during the heady, felonious days of Vice City that enamoured much of my capricious obsession. Cruising from one equitable establishment to another, with occasional misdemeanour’s and vigorous chainsaw assaults on stray vagrants to amuse me between monetary restitution’s was my daily grind. Recollections of those days are still vividly deposited at the forefront of mind, as my exerted struggle for dominion over the province of Vice City finally recompensed my abhorrent contempt for human existence, with the gilded appurtenances of power! Such as exotic cars, an inert depositary cached in my elasticated back pocket (Is that a Semi……..automatic rifle or are you just, oh, it is.) and the acquisition of a property so garish even Scrooge McDuck would have to loan his nephews into prostitution to afford it. A bespoke mansion that is the physical construct of my own ruminant ambition. “Kneel before me trivial, pixellated pedestrians!” But all of these acclaimed memories are supplanted by the pronounced musical accompaniment that was so much more vivacious and infuriating! You see “I just ran. I ran all night and day!” AHHH! Get out of my head! Years of selfish abuse has consolidated a thrift of nostalgic music into my fractured mind, displacing most of my accomplishments with a suggestive influence derived from such auxiliary, often subliminal notations.

When I say that these audited harbingers have blighted my life, I literally mean they make me grimace in anguish. My face contorts into snarl as if I’ve just discovered Michael Bay is remaking Back To The Future with the Wayans Brothers. Yet all the while my foot taps, my hand clenches into a fist as I retract my arm inward like a 90’s singer impeaching his love for an unspecified woman, as my pursed mouth instinctively unfurled and mimics “Video killed the radio star” with muted reciprocation, yet again provoking nauseating acrimony! Every-time an accursed song plays on the radio that correlates with this game, I become emotionally crippled, riddled by composite synchronism of nostalgic mirth and inhibited malice. Years of abstinence from this game had negated many of its residual provocations; the subordinate characters, the satirical perception on 80’s culture and the overt pastiche of the decades movie and television shows (most notably Scarface and Miami Vice). My artifice was one composed of deliberate omission, to forget everything about this game…….and I failed in spectacular fashion! I haven’t ever suppressed its luminance. I mean I can still negotiate around Vice City better than my own home! But its the synthesised melodies that have never truly abated my peripheral subconscious. From Flock of Seagulls to Slayer, the variation of 80’s music permeated throughout Vice City, instilling “I just died in your arms tonight. It must have been something you said” grr! INSTILLING the ambient absurdity of that decade. The negligence of affluence, the abated morality of consumerism, the pomposity of corporate greed, the plethora of transgressive equality retained in yuppie culture, the “Come on feel the noise!”, the fashion and the extruded volatility of humanity, personified in this instance by Tommy “I’m not Henry Hill” Vercetti and “It’s going to take a lot to drag me away from you. There’s nothing that a 100 men or more could ever do”. *Sigh*

Damn, I’m sorry. But I’ve got to go and listen to some Jan Hammer now while I canter solemnly down a Miami beach, gazing longingly as the grains of sand yield to the waves rippling caress and the wind ruffles my distended mullet. All while I repeatedly remove my sunglasses from my rankled face, before placing them back while again staring longingly at…….absolutely nothing.

What game soundtracks are still stuck in your head?

I Play. Therefore I Am.

In West Philadelphia born and raised, in the playground is where I spent most of my days….Wait, no, that’s the Fresh Prince. I was an introverted adolescent, suffering paralytic nightmares as I helplessly spectate demise of my parents, before witnessing the tormented moment a clandestine assailant shoots my innocuous Uncle. The antagonists features obscured by the dimming visibility as the pale moonlight casts an ominous iridescent glow my vanquished, surrogate father. I vowed from that day forth to use my abilities for good, to protect the innocents of this world from the erroneous folly of malignant duplicity. Because with great power, comes great responsibility. Damn it! That’s Spider-man. Regardless of my procured origination that for liability purposes I must insist that I am not, nor have I ever been Spider-man (yet). Nor a tall, wise cracking, sexually promiscuous, discriminate against those that possess ample subsidiaries of excess insulation (fat), African-American. Though due to an active imagination and covert admittance to the biscuit tin that fuelled my sugar induced fabrications, I did conceive many fictitious pseudonyms and fluctuating identities. But for a nominal, intervening moment in my life I was Tommy Vercetti.

“Just cruising through the streets in a tank. What do I have to do to get arrested around here?”

At the tender age of 15 I was legally lacking the requisite maturity to own or even play GTA: Vice City. But luckily for me the ignorance of parentage meant acquiring a copy was a formality, much to the annoyance of the regularly chastised proprietors. And of course my mother had a decent grasp of reality and clear indication that I wasn’t a deranged sociopath that mimics the macabre humanitarian negligence. Perhaps it was the advent of publicised, largely conjectured indictments and exhumation’s towards the deplorable, fictional mutilations and death that beguiled me? Or maybe the surrealist depiction of 80’s cinematic etiquette such as Scarface that exonerated the brutal portrayal of drug dealing? Or perhaps I was simply submissive to its anarchic demeanour and vulnerable to its extroverted countenance? To be honest I don’t inherently care, it was just an immersive game with a great lead. Tommy Vercetti at first glance is somewhat of an anomaly. Motivated, fearless, with a penchant for vibrant shirts, but also extremely masochistic. Incarcerated for 15 years for multiple homicides, liberated on remand after Mafia boss presumably made the judicial system an offer that it couldn’t refuse. Vercetti’s release was accredited to his muted compliance in not detailing intimate knowledge of his former associates for a reduced sentence. With his newly acquired clemency, Tommy seeks to rehabilitate himself back into society, to discover modest employment, settle down and deplore his prior criminal activities. Oh no wait, his robust constitutions allowed him to murder with impunity. And how I idolised him. (Honestly, I’m not a murderer!)

“Gather round and say hello to my little friend! No you idiot, the gun, not my genitalia?!”

It wasn’t just Vercetti that compelled such admiration, as Vice City was one of the few games that presented a relevant, progressive narrative that wasn’t inherently original, but a sardonic portrayal of corporate greed, a caricature of every gangster movie with the exulted excess of both money and narcotics, condensed into an environment that bellowed with callous lust in a morally destitute environment. It was an aberration of established cinematic influences such as Goodfella’s, but with enough satirical emancipation to feel cathartic rather than derisory for the manipulated content. You consorted with numerous duplicitous characters such Burt Reynolds dodgy property developer Avery Carrington, William Fichtner portraying neurotic lawyer Ken Rosenberg, Ray Liotta as the eponymous anti-hero Tommy Vercetti and Danny “You mugging me off!” Dyer as Kent Paul. The latter of which never should have worked! But somehow the piety of his ethical discrepancies and his inflated pomposity integrated admirably into the satirical commentary of the 1980’s. And despite the restrictive rigidity of the role, and with an “actor”, deliberately sheathed in inverted comas–who was hardly the staple of fluent artistic versatility, with Danny Dyer essentially playing, well, Danny Dyer. His charismatic cockney vernacular accentuated affable empathy for this pervasive Anglophile. Sure the retention of morality, the disparate ramifications pertaining to your criminality is often retaliated with domesticated resistance, before your suddenly acquitted of multiple homicides. But it bestowed an empowering sense of affluence no game has ever achieved.

“Calm down mate. Keep your Barnet on!”

Nothing emulated your rise to eminence better than the possession of your very own mansion. The innate sculptures, gilded upholstery that embellishes almost every stick of furniture. With weaving hallways that always lead back to the bespoke, opulent hall decorated with temporal possessions and a floor gleaming with polished marble tapestry that emitted such radiant, reflective affluence you’d think you were gazing at God’s teeth. Of course acquiring such a lavish property was procured through forced necessity, ruthlessly contested by the previous occupant, but successfully pilfered by my superior intellect, precision ballistics and endowed prestige. Your presence commanded respect with a simple stroll through a crowded market would see consumers parting at the sight of your anointed presence, with stall proprietors presenting their wares for you to sample and ask to bless their good health with fortuitous hand gestures (well, that was my perception). I was the Godfather of Vice! There was no incident I wasn’t apprised on, no altercation that couldn’t be amended with a chainsaw. I could inflict trivial infarctions on pedestrians (you know, minor aggravated assaults) compile my accumulated funds from my various franchises or time permitting, engage in some intimate moment with a hooker before negotiating my presented funds by beating her with a baseball bat whilst humming “I just died your arms tonight” (It must have been something I said?). That is until your mother shouts that its time for school and reprimanding you for your latent urgency. “Don’t forget your lunch either.”

“Mum, I’m a Mafia boss. I don’t have packed lunch!” *Sighs* Before silently retorting “I’ll have to have her whacked.”

 What gaming character did you try an emulate? Don’t pretend you didn’t. Please.

GTA; The Vice Of Life

Just over a decade ago at the spirited age of 15 (and I emphasis the word “just”), I received not only the most prestigious gift of my adolescence, but probably the most sufficient present of my tenure as a mature, responsible adult. No, not the sudden descending gravitation of my genitals, or the velocity of follicle endowment to the same area, but the ownership of a PS2. Not to mention an appropriate collaborator to accompany this distinguished acquisition, GTA Vice City. Of course technically I was too young legally to play the game, regulations that govern who can procure such titles were a little less stringent back then, and of course I had the opportunity to exploit my mothers ignorance. But its with a sudden realisation of sobering clarity, that I present my flirtatious digressions and confidently express that I will never be as excited about an another game, the way I was with Vice City. Hours of gratuitous play promptly morphed into days, days formed exponentially to weeks, extending my social ambiguity and reserved interactions with society, such was the engrossing allure of Vice Cities corrosive inhabitants. But it wasn’t until recently that I recalled these influential memories while on the PSN, and discovered to my surprise that the single most influential game of my life, is available for download.

I could almost hear the distant but distinct jovial squall of utter delight from my 15-year-old self when I discovered this valuable piece of information, and despite the lack of glossy definition polish and a deficiency of trophies, Vice City still retains the same addictive insanity that its subsequent successors failed to capture. There isn’t one defining characteristic that truly defines this game as the best in the series, it’s the collaborative yet contrasting elements that compliment each other superbly. The gradual accumulation of money and borderline embezzlement, the steady progression of your figurative empire, the acquisition of various businesses and enterprises, not so subtlety decapitating random pedestrians with a chainsaw, as well as the humbling of eventual betrayer, Lance Vance, and the addition of the other diverse array of characters that prompted many involuntary bouts of comical hysteria.

The neurotic lawyer Ken Rosenberg continually struggling to deal with his tempered clients as well as his own anxieties, the generously endowed porn star Candy Suxx, Burt Reynolds as the unequivocally suspect and certainly ethically challenged entrepreneur Avery Carrington, to probably one of the few times you’ll see the words “talented” and “Danny Dyer” coagulating appropriately into a sentence, with his honourable contributions to the creation of Kent Pauls obnoxious, but entertaining persona. The obtuse vibrancy somehow seemed to compliment the gravitas as well as the narcissistic tendencies the game was willing to exploit, with the diverse composite of vehicular transportation being equally important. Cars, Motorcycles, Boats, and the introduction of aviation were all viable and easy to exploit.

Vice City really demonstrated some of the most eclectic, hilarious and of course vehement formulated missions, devised by the arguably creators who needed deep, psychiatric assessment. Sure the characters represented here look square, and their extremities looked as though they suffered from terrible deformities (like the boxing glove hands), but it was one of those rare occasions where you would be content to sacrifice your accumulated progress, just so you could play it again. But its peculiar how after abstaining from a game for such an extended time, particularly with the strides in technical advancements, that I would still want to experience this depraved “civilisation” (though I use the term loosely). I still want to watch the interactions between characters, the riveting conversing between them, listen to the multitude of cheesy 80’s soundtrack, as well as the hilarious advertisements (anyone want to see a play about a dehydrating manatee?). Vice City effected me in a way few games can, even to the point of dictating my vacation to Miami, as I searched hurriedly to encapsulate the insanity perpetrated virtually and establishing a connection to the real world equivalent (though I stop short of clubbing prostitutes with a baseball bats, apparently that’s frowned upon). I even convinced myself that one of the more prosperous properties was the setting for the Vercetti mansion. But whatever my cognitive defaults, I can confidently express, without reservation, that I will never be as excited by another game again.

What is the most defining game you have played? Let me know your thoughts and suggestions.