We’ve Devised (and Tested) a ‘GTA V’ Drinking Game!
The day is finally upon us, dear readers: as I write this, gamers everywhere are starting to make their way through the open-world crime simulator better known at Grand Theft Auto V. The series’ over-the-top indulgence into all seven deadly sins has garnered it quite a bit of negative attention from overprotective moms the world over. I figured there was no better way to prove them wrong, that video games are harmless entertainment and any gamer has the same chance of growing up sane as any other kid, than to drink heavily by myself while I played it.
- My car catches on fire
- I overhear a pedestrian say something racist
- A prostitute offers her services
- I accidentally obey traffic laws
- I fail a mission
- There’s a cut scene I’d be embarrassed to watch with my parents
- Something awesome happens (I’ll narrow this down a little so that it’s whenever I think to myself the phrase “That was awesome”)
I should mention I’ve never played a Grand Theft Auto game before, so I have no idea if this article will kill me. Let’s find out!
The game finally finished installing and I’m on the first cut scene sequence. I blew up a bank vault with my phone, and believe me when I say, dear reader: it was awesome. First drink down.
I died. I died in the tutorial. I don’t deserve this drink. I’m taking it anyway.
If anyone’s looking for someone who’s super good at getting shot: this person right here.
One of the main characters, Michael, is spending this cut scene talking to his therapist about how disappointed he is in his son. I realize this wasn’t the intention behind this particular rule, but I do not want to watch this with my parents. Drink.
I hit a tree next to a traffic light and accidentally stopped for a red. Does that count as following traffic laws?
I’ve spent the last five minutes watching TV inside the video game inside my TV. I’m drinking because that’s the only thing that makes sense to me anymore.
You guys, this TV show is really good.
Like, REALLY good.
The whiskey is not doing great things for my reflexes, but I think if Franklin and Lamar have to spend enough time together in this car as I fail this driving mission over and over, a beautiful romance will bloom and they’ll totally make out.
GTA is violent, yes, but it always freezes artistically and fades to black and white before you see your own character die. In games like the most recent Tomb Raider where you see yourself die horribly and graphically, the violence has always struck me as much more gratuitous and affecting. Is it better to be desensitized to violence against others or yourself? Can video games (or any form of media) actually desensitize us to anything? How, in something as complex as human psychology, is it ever possible to determine true cause and effect?
Got my first prostitute!
I accidentally destroyed my car to the point where it was undriveable (as it turns out, I am awful at this game) and sat there for a second, thinking, “now what?” Then I remembered the title of the game.
I have failed this mission six times. I think this “Drink every time you fail a mission” rule is entering vicious cycle territory. A Look Behind The Curtain: I had to spell territory four times until I got it right. And again three times just then.
I PASSED IT. I FINALLY PASSED THE MISSION. I JUST HAD TO RUN THE MOTORCYCLE GUY OVER INSTEAD OF TRY TO SHOOT HIM. Even if this game does rub off on me, I think society’s safe, because I am not cut out for a life of crime. Well, maybe like white collar crime. I think I could embezzle the crap out of some diamonds, but fast things and people shooting at me? You do not want me on your team for that.
To those who assume I’m an overgrown woman-child to be doing this with my Tuesday, I’ll have you know that I just used the last of the ice then I refilled the ice tray like some kind of goddamn landowner or something. Suck on that, Mom and Dad.
I was a little thrown off when this suddenly became a towtruck simulator, but turns out I OWN at towing cars. Let’s do this, motherf***ers.
I was told there was a plane in this game. I DEMAND MY GOD-GIVEN RIGHT TO FLY AN AIRPLANE FOR EIGHT SECONDS BEFORE I FORGET WHICH STICK CONTROLS STEERING AND I CRASH INTO THE OCEAN.
I think Franklin could use a friend, but every time I try to make him hug someone he ends up hitting them. Can you identify your problem, Franklin? Do you see how violence is a self-perpetuating cycle? Now let’s go watch some more TV and think about the legacy we want to leave in this world.
The DJ on this radio station just told me to “dig this West Coast vibe.” Don’t tell me what to do, hippie. I’m coming for you next.
I wasn’t listening when this mission was assigned and some guy said “just ram it already” so I’m doing every version of that command I can think of. Nothing’s working. WHAT OR WHO AM I SUPPOSED TO RAM, SIR.
I unlocked a new character! Maybe with this guy I’ll figure out how to not get hit by cars so much while crossing the street.
This is one of the most straight-up fun games I’ve ever played. If I had kids, I would want them to play this game because I like myself better already for having played it. I want my kid to be a Ron Swanson, not a Tom Haverford, which is a bad analogy because probably neither of them have ever played this game. Also they are probably both fictional which is a big problem for me because they are my friends.
It would be cool if there were ladies in it who weren’t just treated like walking life-support systems for vaginas, though.
“That was for sure my last drink,” she said, reaching for the whiskey bottle. “I mean, I have work in the morning,” she reasoned as she went to the kitchen for more ice.
Something the reviewers won’t tell you: this game will make you have to pee, like, WAY more often than you normally do.
A STRANGER GAVE MY CHARACTER SOME BAD WEED AND I’M SHOOTING ALIENS WITH A MINIGUN AND IT IS LITERALLY THE BEST THING I’VE EVER DONE IN MY LIFE.
I’m calling it: these aliens are better than me. I’ll keep trying, but I think I’ve hit a whiskey wall.
That’s it. No more aliens. I submit. They are better than me, and more worthy to control this planet’s resources. I will serve as either court jester or nutrient slurry in this new era of civilization. May God have mercy on us all.
CAN SOMEONE PLEASE BRING ME A BURRITO. I NEED A BURRITO.