When I was in my first year of high school, rumours swirled around the playground about a video game where you could see people naked. Outrage and intrigue flooded the hallways: it was 2005, and for a group of 12-year-old Catholic school kids, nothing could be more scandalous than the idea of a video game where people had sex. Until that point, our Gameboys and PlayStations were for catching Pokemon and locking Lara Croft’s butler in the walk-in fridge. The ‘Hot Coffee’ controversy around Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas – in which particularly dedicated fans of the franchise restored a cut mini-game which allowed them to have semi-graphic sex with player character CJ’s girlfriend – blew our tiny, religion-conditioned minds.
The first Grand Theft Auto game I played was GTA V. Released in 2013, it was a cultural behemoth. By then, the franchise was already one of the most successful – and infamous – in gaming history, but GTA V took things up a notch: in its first 24 hours on sale, the game made a reported $800 million – it surpassed the billion-dollar mark in less than three days. But as well as breaking commercial records, GTA V was a critical smash too, earning perfect scores from various review outlets including Edge, IGN and GamesRadar+. rumours swirled around
The instant that firmly captivated my attention remains vivid in my memory: retired crime boss Michael, an overt yet charming Tony Soprano doppelgänger voiced by Ned Luke, joins forces with novice gangster Franklin (voiced by Shawn Fonteno) to mete out street justice on the tennis coach involved with Michael’s wife. Armed only with a tow truck, a winch, and unbridled rage, they yank the cliffside house where the coach is hiding down by its support beams. This audacious act of retribution serves as the linchpin for the game’s narrative, propelling Michael into conflict with formidable adversaries due to his impulsive outburst. Simultaneously, he recruits Franklin to assist in a quest for swift monetary gains. However, this demolition spectacle also thrusts Michael back into the orbit of former associate Trevor, portrayed by Steven Ogg in a performance that can only be described as the pinnacle of unhinged brilliance. Trevor, a depraved psychopath residing in a squalid trailer, believed Michael had perished nine years earlier in a botched bank heist.