Zdravstvuj. My name is Valentin Seleznyov and i'm a 28 year old self-employed kitchen designer from London, England.
When i'm not making housewives dreams come true, i work on my space ballet and play video games.
It's like a regular ballet, only instead of traditional instrumentation, it will be performed on electric guitars, drum machines, and the space-aged equivalent of a cannon. A sort of ode to Tchaikovsky, my musical idol.
I realise that i am a little too late for the monthly challenge, but i'd like to talk about my new favourite GTA moment anyway. It only happened yesterday, and amazingly the one thing that instantly annoyed me about GTA Online ended up being the thing that caused me the most enjoyment.
When you stick up a store you are encouraged to shout at the poor clerk behind the cash register. Doing so apparently makes him prepare the money a little faster, but as you can probably imagine, the majority of the people who bother with this are little kids who just shout rather dull obscenities.
When i got to this part of the game i decided that i would take part - only i would roleplay as a 1940s-era English gentleman, as opposed to the 21st century English gentleman i am.
'I am dreadfully sorry to be a bother, my good man, but if you do not place all of your money into this plastic carrier bag with the utmost haste i shall be for forced to smash your head in with this policeman's truncheon. Which i retrieved from the cadaver of a bobby who stuck his nose where it was not wanted.'
Unfortunately by this time, the Old Bill had actually turned up. Even more unfortunately, i didn't have any ammo, so the nightstick i pinched from the rozza was actually my only means of defending myself. So i hit the two policemen with it.
'You get a wallop. And you get a wallop.' and then a poor passer-by. 'EVERYBODY GETS A WALLOP.' Then got into my automobile and sped down the highway, where a short time later i had a head-on collision with another player. His car was totalled and he was killed, but i was fine because i had purchased an armour upgrade. This seemed to offend him and he went apesh*t at me.
'My apologies, sir, but i am from Britain you see? I am still adjusting to driving on the right side of the road.' and then i explained that you can insure your cars, and that all he had to do was give the insurance company a ring and he would get a brand new one. But he didn't have insurance.
'No insurance? That must mean you nicked it! A marauding renegade such as yourself really is in no position to speak to such an esteemed and mostly law-abiding subject like me, Sir Percy, in such a tone.' At this point he threatened to kill me. 'I suggest you think long and hard before starting a row with me, dear boy. Or else i shall have to get the chaps on the horn, and you shall be in for the thrashing of a lifetime.'
You can probably guess that i don't actually have any chaps on who to call, unlike he, who really did sic his crew on me. I had to ditch my beautiful navy blue Banshee for a lorry, for the additional protection. Which proved a good decision when i was able to push a car containing three of my pursuers into the canals near the beach area. Of course i had to quip 'you fellows need to cool off'.
It wasn't long though, before the lorry was no longer functional and i had to make my escape on foot, which is rather difficult. Fortune smiled upon me though, as i was disconnected, presumably as a result of the shaky servers.
As i was taken back to the single-player campaign, i couldn't help but think 'you lead a charmed life, Sir Percy' and look forward to the antics he would get up to next time.
I want to make a crew that consists entirely of players of different nationalities, roleplaying as national stereotypes. It is empowering, to take the things uncultured people use to make fun of you and use them as a weapon yourself. You get to take the cool things, like the accent, manner of speech and ingenious methods of staving off scurvy, and ignore the dumb things like bad cuisine and teeth.