![]() I learned the ins and outs of the game’s truth-doubt-lie interrogation system, and I put a half-dozen men in jail. My early accomplishments led to a swift promotion from street cop to traffic investigator to homicide detective. Noire, the less I was able to accept the identity I had been given. Those lines of ambient dialogue repeat and repeat until one can’t help but sense the watchful eye of Big Brother, the constant surveillance of the city itself. They’re all watching Cole, talking about him ruminating about his recent cases, his media presence, the ups and downs of his career. You should be ashamed of yourself, young man.” “You remember Mickey and his boys were shootin’ up the town last night? Remember there was only one cop fightin’ back? He was either brave or crazy.” A good-looking boy like that should go into politics.” But when I accuse them of lying, why are they so consistent in their demands for proof? Why do they move their eyes with such specific, determined shiftiness? And why, when I pass them on the street, do they speak only of me and my actions? Their faces seem familiar, almost real, stretched onto marionettes and set into motion by invisible strings. No one questioned my meteoric rise through the force no one pointed out how strange it was that every time a case needed solving, I found the perfect evidence, almost as though it had been placed there just for me. I started to ask, who are these people around me? Why are they watching me? Why do they await my every action so patiently? This world exists for one purpose: to observe and-at limited, specific times-to react to Cole Phelps. The world was moving along on its own, but for a moment, I changed it. The flipside of this is that when a player chooses to actively engage with the world, it feels momentous, electric. Niko Bellic and John Marston may have been the stars of their respective stories, but the worlds those men occupied didn’t appear to give a whit one way or another. But there is an important illusion that open-world games often maintain: that the game world is fully independent and chugs along on its own disinterested momentum. Noire, I began to have what I can only call a paranoid existential videogame freakout.Īny single-player game presents an artificial world that revolves entirely around the player character. Other times it does not feel that way at all. That’s the best we can do for policemen in this city.” I hope his wife takes him for all he’s worth.” Sometimes, Cole, it feels like you’re living a real life. You kill criminals on the job with ruthless efficiency and surprising regularity. ![]() You go through the motions, examining the clues, asking your questions, and presenting evidence. You’re doing pretty well for yourself, climbing the ranks and earning commendations while clearing case after case. Where are you, Cole Phelps? Do you honestly believe you made it home from the war in Japan? Are you really back with your family, safe and sound in Los Angeles? You go to work at the police station every day. What’s going on behind that furrowed brow, those ever-widening eyes, that flummoxed frown? Who are you, Cole Phelps? Broken in war, cheated by your own cowardice and bad manners. ![]() “It’s that guy from the paper! Solved the big case!” “Isn’t that the cop who caught the guy who was pretending to be dead?” ![]()
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