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The bridge over the Charles River is a happy place in my mind. I miss Boston so much. Hope you thrive there.
Nice!... and one of the reasons I will likely never bother picking up this game. I love exploring and to have this taken away just feels incomplete for me somehow. :(
Cole walked away from the crime scene. His hands held the pieces, but the puzzle was missing a frame.
In the gaze of the summer sun, he walked over to the conviently placed phonebox, at the corner of Maple Avenue. It was a picture-esque suburb, the kind he would like to settle down in, if he ever reached retirement. The starlet, forever frozen in dumpster, rather than the silver screen, had put a damper on those dreams.
Cole sighed at the futility of the city's hopes. He picked up the reciever, and dialled for an operator.
"Hello, Dispatch?" he asked with a restrained urgency. "Phelps, Badge No. 1247."
"How can I help you, Detective?" the operator replied. Her voice was distant, barely masking the beauty in her tones.
"Yes, I need you to run a trace on a license plate. It's FN56---"
The woman on the other end cut him off, "Oh yeah, it's blue Chevvy."
"Wow, that was fast. Well, could you get me the owner to go with that?"
"Sure, its registered to Marlo Constantine," she paused, "I suppose you want the address. Funnily enough, I have it right here. Oh, you men and your slowpoke ways."
There were no angels in this city, and even if there were, they would judge you with a condescending remark.
"You work remarkably fast," Cole mused, "Don't you have relay my message to someone in records, or to the DMV, and wouldn't that take a few hours, anyway? Are you making all this up? You know, recently, I've been arresting a lot of people, based on circumstantial evidence. Confirmed by your department, I might add."
He didn't get a reply, just awkward silence, and the echo of his own confusion. It was reminicent of his last phonecall to the future ex-Mrs. Phelps.
"Detective Phelps," the woman finally responded, "I have a message for you. Do you want me to read it out?"
Despite the change in subject, Cole needed any piece of information he could get his hands on, and fast. He gave her the go ahead, erasing the recent absurdity, in the process.
"Sure. Give me what you got."
"It's from your wife. She says, 'You've got a small dick'."
"Oh..."
The woman obviously revelled in taking Phelps, The Golden Boy, down a peg. Seemed like everybody had it in for him. It was best not to make waves, anymore. It was a time to keep his head down, crack the case, and move to a better station. One that had a water cooler, and a partner that actually did detective work.
"Anything else, Detective?"
Phelps thought about it. In the end, he came with a poetic apology. He still loved her. You don't throw away all the years you shared, the bond remained, despite all that had happened.
"Yes, could you tell her..."
"I've already done it, Detective."
"Of course," Cole rolled his eyes, "What did you tell her?"
The operator cleared her throat, before eloquently saying, "Up yours, you frigid bitch. I'm hitting the best piece of German ass in the world. Oh, you wouldn't believe the loving I'm getting, baby. I'm afraid Vanilla just doesn't cut it for me, anymore. See you in the gutter, collecting food stamps, when I drive by."
The operator waited nonchantly on his reply.
Cole nodded, all alone on the corner of Maple Avenue. He pursed his lips, cheeks protruding like a shaved hamster. In the unforgiving city, his problems were just one for the pile. There was no room for pity. The starlet had escape that cycling fate.
"Yeah," he responded, "yeah, that'll do."
In the gaze of the summer sun, he walked over to the conviently placed phonebox, at the corner of Maple Avenue. It was a picture-esque suburb, the kind he would like to settle down in, if he ever reached retirement. The starlet, forever frozen in dumpster, rather than the silver screen, had put a damper on those dreams.
Cole sighed at the futility of the city's hopes. He picked up the reciever, and dialled for an operator.
"Hello, Dispatch?" he asked with a restrained urgency. "Phelps, Badge No. 1247."
"How can I help you, Detective?" the operator replied. Her voice was distant, barely masking the beauty in her tones.
"Yes, I need you to run a trace on a license plate. It's FN56---"
The woman on the other end cut him off, "Oh yeah, it's blue Chevvy."
"Wow, that was fast. Well, could you get me the owner to go with that?"
"Sure, its registered to Marlo Constantine," she paused, "I suppose you want the address. Funnily enough, I have it right here. Oh, you men and your slowpoke ways."
There were no angels in this city, and even if there were, they would judge you with a condescending remark.
"You work remarkably fast," Cole mused, "Don't you have relay my message to someone in records, or to the DMV, and wouldn't that take a few hours, anyway? Are you making all this up? You know, recently, I've been arresting a lot of people, based on circumstantial evidence. Confirmed by your department, I might add."
He didn't get a reply, just awkward silence, and the echo of his own confusion. It was reminicent of his last phonecall to the future ex-Mrs. Phelps.
"Detective Phelps," the woman finally responded, "I have a message for you. Do you want me to read it out?"
Despite the change in subject, Cole needed any piece of information he could get his hands on, and fast. He gave her the go ahead, erasing the recent absurdity, in the process.
"Sure. Give me what you got."
"It's from your wife. She says, 'You've got a small dick'."
"Oh..."
The woman obviously revelled in taking Phelps, The Golden Boy, down a peg. Seemed like everybody had it in for him. It was best not to make waves, anymore. It was a time to keep his head down, crack the case, and move to a better station. One that had a water cooler, and a partner that actually did detective work.
"Anything else, Detective?"
Phelps thought about it. In the end, he came with a poetic apology. He still loved her. You don't throw away all the years you shared, the bond remained, despite all that had happened.
"Yes, could you tell her..."
"I've already done it, Detective."
"Of course," Cole rolled his eyes, "What did you tell her?"
The operator cleared her throat, before eloquently saying, "Up yours, you frigid bitch. I'm hitting the best piece of German ass in the world. Oh, you wouldn't believe the loving I'm getting, baby. I'm afraid Vanilla just doesn't cut it for me, anymore. See you in the gutter, collecting food stamps, when I drive by."
The operator waited nonchantly on his reply.
Cole nodded, all alone on the corner of Maple Avenue. He pursed his lips, cheeks protruding like a shaved hamster. In the unforgiving city, his problems were just one for the pile. There was no room for pity. The starlet had escape that cycling fate.
"Yeah," he responded, "yeah, that'll do."
I had a terrible dream last night where I bought a Boston Bruins jersey. Even worse, I couldn't make up my mind if I wanted the black home jersey or the yellow alternate one >__<
No matter how close games come to being realistic, they're still nowhere close to capturing the true chaos/randomness that the world brings. It's hard to make a game feel truly alive, at least this generation. Anyways, beautifully written!
No matter how close games come to being realistic, they're still nowhere close to capturing the true chaos/randomness that the world brings. It's hard to make a game feel truly alive, at least this generation. Anyways, beautifully written!
comments of the week, take note of stevil (oh who am I kidding? you already do!)
My favorite parts of LA Noire were when I went as off the record as possible. As Jack (? the other guy; not Cole), I once spent a whole fifteen minutes running down the middle of the street chasing down a cop car to make the driver get out so I could take it. At one point I turned the camera back and saw a huge traffic jam behind me, caused by the lone guy running in the middle of the road. And yeah, for some reason, the cop was happy to give me his car. I guess I'm very convincing.
My favorite parts of LA Noire were when I went as off the record as possible. As Jack (? the other guy; not Cole), I once spent a whole fifteen minutes running down the middle of the street chasing down a cop car to make the driver get out so I could take it. At one point I turned the camera back and saw a huge traffic jam behind me, caused by the lone guy running in the middle of the road. And yeah, for some reason, the cop was happy to give me his car. I guess I'm very convincing.
Oh God Stevil, that was wonderful.
And so was this blog, Cait!
Can I call you Cait?
Of course I can! I do what I want!
And so was this blog, Cait!
Can I call you Cait?
Of course I can! I do what I want!
If I had the ability to fap on my phone, I would. Too bad I'm outside and people are looking.
Great blog - it was a lovely read.
Great blog - it was a lovely read.
Andy - haha I'm responding to you first to let everyone know that it's PERFECTLY FINE TO CALL ME CAIT OR WHATEVER you guys want (related to the name Caitlin, I don't wanna be Bonerface McGee or anything).
Celica - haha awesome. I know it can't perfectly capture the innate randomness of this world, but it's lacking what I loved so much in Rockstar games - a purpose to random exploration. I guess there's hidden cars or whatever, but it would have been cool to have shops, weapons, even intuition points hidden around the city. Or shops to take my car to, or places to buy my suits...really there are many things they could have done to compensate for the extreme linearity.
Knutaf - omg I know exactly how you feel - I spent about a half hour perfectly timing my stride to have a car hit and run me over. Stupid or no, it's stuff like this that makes a game fun for me.
Venus, Jed, Cord, Occams, Elsa - Thanks!! I've taken the first step to exploring this city and will be attending a Smashing Pumpkins concert tonight (side note: what would the equivalent band be in 1940's LA?)
Celica - haha awesome. I know it can't perfectly capture the innate randomness of this world, but it's lacking what I loved so much in Rockstar games - a purpose to random exploration. I guess there's hidden cars or whatever, but it would have been cool to have shops, weapons, even intuition points hidden around the city. Or shops to take my car to, or places to buy my suits...really there are many things they could have done to compensate for the extreme linearity.
Knutaf - omg I know exactly how you feel - I spent about a half hour perfectly timing my stride to have a car hit and run me over. Stupid or no, it's stuff like this that makes a game fun for me.
Venus, Jed, Cord, Occams, Elsa - Thanks!! I've taken the first step to exploring this city and will be attending a Smashing Pumpkins concert tonight (side note: what would the equivalent band be in 1940's LA?)
I saw you playing this game a ton recently, and it seems like you feel the same way I did. I thought the game was beautifully done, but there was no choice, no consequence, no true feeling of being able to do anything and go anywhere.
Kaggen - Thanks! Yeah I think Stevil really needs to produce more of this on his blog. ;]
Pedro - Yeah, and I'm still not done yet! Right now I'm at the part where things are picking up a bit and I'm allowed to explore the different landmarks to get more clues but it's still very restricted.
Pedro - Yeah, and I'm still not done yet! Right now I'm at the part where things are picking up a bit and I'm allowed to explore the different landmarks to get more clues but it's still very restricted.
Kaggen - Thanks! Yeah I think Stevil really needs to produce more of this on his blog. ;]
Pedro - Yeah, and I'm still not done yet! Right now I'm at the part where things are picking up a bit and I'm allowed to explore the different landmarks to get more clues but it's still very restricted.
Pedro - Yeah, and I'm still not done yet! Right now I'm at the part where things are picking up a bit and I'm allowed to explore the different landmarks to get more clues but it's still very restricted.
You've pointed out the main reason I passed this game by. Just seems like a game I'd become easily bored with. :( Some of the best times I've had in games have been when I wandered off doing my own thing and seeing the "sites". (Red Dead Redemption for example)
@Stevil - More? That was really good!
@Stevil - More? That was really good!
I don't want to steal Cait's limelight. It's her blog, after all! I just wrote that on a whim, to match her prose (hence, the bad grammar, ahem), but thanks to all.
I wish I could be writing on the blogs more regularly, but I'm quite deep in a pet project of mine. Boo, I know. Maybe, I'll try and get something out for Halloween. No promises, though!
I wish I could be writing on the blogs more regularly, but I'm quite deep in a pet project of mine. Boo, I know. Maybe, I'll try and get something out for Halloween. No promises, though!
That's exactly why I love cities, big or small. Exploring, taking a different way home every now and then. You never know what hidden treasures you'll find. Even if it's just a comfy place to sit with a view.
Oh Stevil, you're welcome to steal whatever limelight I have haha. I don't write for it anyway, I write to have discussions and to occasionally spill my thoughts.
Scotty - Yeah! I need more time in my day...I'd totally just sit in some Boston nook for hours and write or eat or just stare if I could.
Scotty - Yeah! I need more time in my day...I'd totally just sit in some Boston nook for hours and write or eat or just stare if I could.
Amazingly written blog! It all came together and the combination of that final line and picture was great.
