Smile for the Camera With Extreme Prejuidice.
Ever feel like ya being watched? I'm getting that feeling right now as I pace back and forth down one of the many dilapidated streets in this hole Carcer City. I was called here based on my specialties...taking out the trash if you know what I mean. Some high-end Hollywood chump thought it would be a good idea for a snuff film to be shot here. The setting? This entire city. The actors? Yours truly along with my associates; we make an ensemble cast. The guy we're after, some gutter punk hood who was given a second chance at life from the big bad director himself; stars. The plot? A classic game of cat and mouse-- only the cats in question possess: 9mm pistols, hammers, machetes, etc. in which we use to blow, smash and slash the little mouse to chicklet sized pieces. We get him before he gets the chance to get us.
Simple as cake, right? In any other circumstance you'd be correct, sir, no problem-o. But this boy is not no ordinary target; not by a long shot. The boy's got the devil in him. My buddy Joe Bob was found in an alleyway with a grocery bag wrapped firmly around every orifcice on his head. Billy Jim, a greasy loon I did time with, was found in the junk yard with his melon bashed out like a pinata; his brains scattered through the dirt like Reese's Pieces. These boys got it off easily though. I don't even want to tell you what happened to one of the goons in the Innocentz; just know that it had something to do with a sickle and the goon's "restricted area" if you catch my drift. They said they could fill up a kiddie pool with the amount of blood that came out of that fella; but I digress.
The guy we're after is named James Earl Cash; and wth a name like that, I'm surprised the guy didn't pick up the guitar and started playing the jailhouse blues. Armed with an assortment of weapons ranging from broken bottles to baseball bats to automatic assualt rifles, Cash hunts us down with as much vigor as we do him. He allegedly is given directions by the director himself; who speaks to him through a headset and whom Cash must obey if he ever wants to see the light of day again.
The director seems to get off by all this; rating each execution Cash performs with a "fetish" level. Which means, the more gruesome Cash gets with my boys, the more Cash is awarded (no pun intended). At the end of each scene (there's twenty of them, if you're keeping count), Cash is graded based on: time, his body count and the style in which he used to off my men. This all leads to a final score which may or may not unlock other bonuses depending on how well Cash does.
I have a theory that Cash hides in the shadows; picking us off one by one instead of fighting us like a man. Understandable, considering the obvious disadvantage he has in terms of numbers. If one or more spot the sucker, we're liable to gang up on him and take him downtown. Sure, Cash will throw a few punches in resistance; but the boy's weak. Only one or two of us have enough man juice to take him on, no problem-o. The only problem is that my men have a huge problem hearing anything coming behind them, and it could take them literal minutes before their brains click on and they turn around. By the time they do notice; and depending how well-timed Cash's plan of attack is; it's already too late. It's hammer city for them.
If by chance one of my men are onto Cash, he can toss either: a bottle, a brick or a severed head to divert the forces that prey on him from his current position. It works the other way, too. Cash can tap a wall or anything near him to arouse the attention of the hunters. Of course my men, being as rock stupid as they are, almost always take the bait and the results are usually comparable to a bug to a Venus Flytrap.
Speakng of the "forces that prey", allow me to tell ya all about 'em. The projects are governed by a flimsy gang of hoodlums approprately named the Hoods. The junkyard: home to a bigoted heard of meaty white supremacists called the Skinz. The mall is patrolled by machete wielding maniacs called the Innocentz and the Wardogs silently watch over Carcer City Zoo, camouflauged by the moonlight and thickets, ready to annihilate anything that looks funny. Smileys are what Cash should really be afraid of. Driven absolutely bonkers from the ghosts of their pasts; these tweaked out psychopaths rule dominion over Darkwoods Penitentiary with a blood dripping scepter. Not to mention the Carcer City Police and the Cerberus, the director's spec ops team whom all carry the heavy artillery. Hey, nobody said that ths game would be a stroll through the park.
While going the stealth route almost always seems to be Cash's M.O, there are times when he has to get by though a storm of bullets. Luckily for us, Cash isn't the best marksman. The guy tried taking down multiples of my men with a nail gun, but only managed to subdue one before he got a good whoopin' and retreated back into the darkness like the gutless little worm that he is.
Really, there's not much else to say. The boy has a knack for killin', that's for sure. He might indulge himself in a few activities such as operating a crane, and escorting dirty hobos and smarmy reporters from points A to B, but otherwise it's almost cut and dry homicide and hiding.
The stink of death and trepidation permeate this God forsaken city like smog. It's growing quieter and from time to time I can hear the gouged shrieks of my men in the industrial wilderness as Cash disembowels them like fish. I'm almost alone now; I think Boppo went to go check around the dumpster down the street, but that was ten minutes ago. I write this as a memoir. I know for a fact I won't make it to see breakfast. Or my fifteen minutes...
BRASS TACKS: B+
+Stealth put to good use
+/-Not for kids
-Frustrating at times
-Awkward shooting controls