I've been playing RDR2 on the PC almost non-stop since day 1 on the PC.
RDR2 is quickly on its way to earning a spot on my top-favorite-games-of-all-time list. It’s right up there next to AVP Gold, HL1, Diablo, Morrowind, NOX, NOLF & Serious Sam, with Ultima Underworld being an honorable mention. I very much enjoy open world games where I'm offered the freedom to do whatever I want. If I feel like doing a main mission I can, if I want to just wander around, I can do that too. With RDR2, I've caught myself literally spending several hours on end, just walking up and down random streams catching fish. I was killed by a big scaly monstrosity of a brute last night though while catfishing along the shore of some swamps I stumbled across. Guess he wanted my prime stringer of bluegills. J
I really like how in RDR2, the game changes a little every time you play. For instance,
The other day I was out in the middle of nowhere plinking away at small game with my scoped .22 (which I got for free after I sucked the snake venom outta some NPC’s leg while out fishing one day) when I heard gun shots off in the distance. After skinning the raccoon I had just shot (in a thoroughly barbaric rip-the-skin-right-offa-him move) I whistled for my horse who was grazing a short distance away and climbed back up in the saddle and headed off towards where I had heard the shots coming from. As I crested a ridge, I began to hear voices, the 1st of which had an Irish accent and were talkin real mean like. I knew then without a doubt it had to be a group of them damn O’Driscoll boys. Now I thought about dismounting and sneaking up on them like, but being as I might need to get away quickly, I stayed in the saddle and took a good look. At the bottom of a small hill, stood a steam engine at idle belching black smoke, the late afternoon sunlight reflecting off its windows. Lined up next to its coal cart stood 3 rough looking fellas with their rifles & 6 shooters pointing at a group of passengers on the ground. Any fool could see they were in the middle of robbing these fine folks and well, I couldn’t have that. So I pulled my own rifle off my shoulder, went to aim and realized it was the .22. Damnation & hellfire! Might as well have just picked up a rock and thrown it, for all the good this pea shooter would do.
Well I knew if my aim was true I had a chance of dropping at least one of them if I hit him square up side the dead. So I brought the butt of the rifle back up to my shoulder and put the .22’s cross hairs dead to center over the temple of the nearest soon-to-be-daisy- florist and squeezed the trigger. Guess ‘ol Lady Luck was with me as he dropped like a sack of potatoes off the back of a wagon. ‘Course now his buddies weren’t too happy, especially since the one I had just dropped owed one of the other fellas a good sum of money from the previous night’s poker game, not that I would have known that but it was true none the less. So I put my spurs into old Nibblers sides and went charging down the hill. Now these O’Driscoll boys may breed like cockroaches but they sure aren’t yeller like them. They immediately ran to take cover, blindly firing as they went. They say lady luck is a fickle mistress and I believe them, whoever “they” are.
Almost immediately I’m hit. Not a killing shot mind you (otherwise I’d not be here to tell the tale) but it packed a wallop. “In for a penny, in for a pound” my old man always used to say so I pulled out my sawn off shotgun and charged flat out at the nearest O’Driscoll. They may be brave, but they couldn’t hit the ground if they were pointing down (the round I just took not withstanding) Jumping over a passenger laying on the ground I didn’t know if was dead or alive, I landed close to the first of the 2 remaining bandits and fired both barrels at almost point blank range. I couldn’t miss and he took both barrels to the face and chest.
The remaining bandit saw the fate of his buddy and took off running. So I pulled out my lasso and had a little fun. He lasted 2 whole turns around the train before expiring. After going through their pockets, which landed me a few dollars I’d be spending at the saloon later that evening, I also found a nice gold pocket watch which would fetch a tidy sum. I turned my attention to the hostages but they had all scattered when the 1st sorry sack of potatoes dropped. There wasn’t much of value on the train, as the bandits had already cleaned it out before I arrived. (Probably where the gold watch had come from) The body I had jumped over earlier turned out to be the trains operator and since no one stuck around to tell me no, I whistled at old Nibbler to follow then jumped up inside engine and took me a nice long train ride. I left it just outside the town of Valentine and rode off for the Dakota River for a little early evening fishing.
Yeah, it’s safe to say that I’m really enjoying RDR2. This is only one of many true stories...