Last week, I bought a Playstation 3. One of the first games I got for it was Grand Theft Auto 4. Over the years, I have bought all the games in the GTA series, and at no time have I ever beat the game. Actually, I’ve never even gotten halfway through the game. This game will be no different, and for all the reviews about the graphics being phenomenal and the story being compelling — all true — I only remember now why I can’t get very far in the game:

It stresses me the fuck out. Take this scene, no less than twenty minutes into the game:

Guy sitting shotgun: [in a Serbian accent] QUICK QUICK! THE COPS ARE CHASING AFTER US! WE MUST NAVIGATE THROUGH THE UNFORGIVING STREETS OF LIBERTY CITY WHILE YOU DRIVE THIS SHITTY CAR THAT DOESN’T HANDLE WELL AND I YELL AT YOU CONSTANTLY.
Ernie: Fuck me.
Guy sitting shotgun: WHAT THE FUCK ASSHOLE WHERE DID YOU LEARN HOW TO DRIVE DRIVE GODDAMMIT
Ernie: [Makes a left turn into a light pole] Fuck.
Guy sitting shotgun: YOU PIECE OF SHIT NOW WE’RE D–
[car gets rammed by 150 Police Squadrons from all sides, MISSION FAILED message appears on the screen, Ernie removes the disc from the PS3 out of frustration and plays Minesweeper on his laptop]

Seriously, I don’t care if this is the highest rated game on the Playstation 3 — if I wanted to be screamed at in an automobile, I could driving my mother around the Bay Area and tell her I was gay.