NO-FI GAME REVIEWZ FOR APRIL
GRAND THEFT AUTO III
Published by Rockstar Games for the Playstation II
"GRAND THEFT AUTO III: THE NOVEL" by David 1-X
I opened my eyes and found myself standing in front of a hospital. At first I thought I must be hurt, but I felt so good, so full of life. I don't like hospitals, so I began running through a parking lot and towards the street. I stopped suddenly, jumped into the air, and then continued booking full-tilt. A cab rolled by, and stopped right in front of me. Something came over me, and I found myself grabbing the startled, turban-topped driver and pulling him out. Despite being a loyal American who should never be harassed because of his race, the driver cursed me out in Hindi as I sped away on the sidewalk, bits of pedestrians and crushed street signs flying in my wake. Cheesy music poured out of the cab¼s stereo, but I was too busy slaloming around the dense traffic which snarled the streets to change the station. Frustration stained my vision blood red, and I stomped on the accelerator, smashing the cab into a bus. Metal flying, tires screeching like all the banshees from hell forced to sit together at recess, cab and bus performed a deadly punk ballet until smoke poured from the engine and the tires wobbled dangerously. Another hit, and flames licked out from the engine. I knew I had to get out before...BLAM! A thunderous explosion propelled me face first into the pavement. Some pedestrians shrieked in fear as nearby cars began to cook off as well. Others just minded their own business.
I jumped up and cocked my head like a dog. Sirens, in the distance. Police! I ran mindlessly in circles for a moment, picking fights with a few pedestrians just to make life more interesting. Then I saw them. There, floating in the air and caressed by a green glowing halo of light, lay a machine gun. Another green glow held grenades, firebombs, a devil's toychest of high velocity death-dealing hardware. Soon, my sleek, well-muscled body was festooned with weapons, and I was ready for war. I listened again for police sirens and heard nothing but the ceaseless hum of the city, mixed with the random mutterings of the aimless pedestrians who cruised the streets endlessly. The police in this town were known for their short attention spans, but they would usually come running if you shot at school bus with an M-16 assault rifle until it blew up in a spectacular gout of orange flame and mangled children, so that's what I did. Like clockwork they appeared, their little gumball lights flashing an intimidating blue /red, blue/red. For a second, I considered surrendering. I had always been able to get off on technicalities before. Last time I went before the Judge, after stealing six cars and sniping on passers-by from a bridge, I claimed a brain tumor, and before I could blink I was out on the steps of the police station.
This time would be different. I met the first cruiser with a bazooka shot, and by the time it reached me it was nothing but a fiery shell of itself. Two other cars blew in sympathy for their fallen comrade, and I began running again. A cruiser jumped the curb and struck me, then ran over my head as it backed up. Gunshots rang out, and slugs etched fine white lines in the air. They were trying to kill me! I unlimbered my mini-Uzi and began shooting. Caught in the crossfire, a pedestrian performed an interpretive death dance, blood spurting from a hundred wounds as he toppled onto the ground with a strangled grunt. Suddenly, I was surrounded, police and pedestrians and cars and green glowing piles of guns and money all stacked in a growing heap around me. I bared my fangs and made a promise to Jesus Christ that I would burn and kill and rape and loot until he told me to stop. Even then, I would keep killing and burning and looting until he asked me a second time and put his hand on my shoulder. My flamethrower came into my hand and began farting great golden blooms of fire which looked for all the world like pretty, pretty flowers. Only pretty flowers don't cause people to burst into flame, running in mindless agony until the searing heat melted the very flesh from their bones. I turned and held the trigger down, becoming a calm eye at the center of a fiery tornado of death and destruction. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied unattended parked patrol car, it's porky payload having been consumed in the
cleansing fire. If I could just reach it, I could head for the bridge and spend the rest of the afternoon shooting down police helicopters.....
(David 1-X has been a contributing writer to No-Fi "Magazine" since back in the day and could play GTA3 all day and night, perhaps even download his own life into the game if it were possible.)
