Man, life's pretty tough on the mean streets of Pimlico for thugs like me. "Community support" po-po on every corner, leaves swept up whether they're brown or green, anti-climbing paint on the walls and ample parking. As I sit here typing this, there's a POLICEMAN ON A HORSE outside my window. Everyone minding their Ps and Qs. There aren't even any derelict buildings. How are we meant to form gangs and become addicted to heroin and generally fall off society's radar when it's all so bloody clean and tidy? Thank goodness for games like Urban Reign. Keeping it real.
See, this is what we want. You are BRAD HAWK. You are a PROFESSIONAL. You ANSWER TO NO ONE. I didn't even write down what the city's called that you're in, but it doesn't matter; you know why you're here; you're here to go around beating people up for money; you're here to be MEAN and ANSWER TO NO ONE except that lady handing out the missions and SHE'S JUST A DAME.
Dame? Yeah, you know. She's a, uh, um. Oh fishhooks. Okay look, I admit it, this is total charlatanry. My working knowledge of gangsters is limited to what I've seen in The Shield and Guys And Dolls, and I haven't even seen the latter so it's even worse than it sounds. I don't like mean streets at all; I like choccy biccies and cups of tea. The closest I've come to drug taking is battling a cold by mainlining Lemsip. I use the word "jumpers" and listen to Belle & Sebastian while talking to my Nanna on the phone about watercolours. I talk about my feelings. The only thing I've ever "tagged" was my ruler in school, and even then I felt like I'd committed some great act of hate against Shatter Resistance.