Entry #54: We're Anti-Heroes!

A new day is here and we're already tangled up with bandits and no-good murderers who are robbing a stagecoach. And apparently Bryan has allied himself with them. Another great start.

Entry #53: Gunslinger Face

Stephen slacked off on this entry, claiming he was "tired" or some such nonsense, so I, Bryan, shall fill his place. I was right to distrust the Mexicans, for as soon as we set foot in their town, trouble arose. Three of them surrounded us and began took our hat, going so far as to take our shoes to boot. (Get it?) This arose Marston's anger enough to cause him to shoot the trio, which gained the notice of a nearby old timer. An old timer who was a master gunslinger! He soon taught us how to do Level 3 of Dead Eye, which let us paint targets manually rather than automatically! This should prove to make combat more interesting and perhaps a bit more difficult. (Something we've been having somewhat of a problem with so far.) After we tried this out on a few bottles and birds we went on to the real deal: a captured cart. It proved a lot more interesting to take someone out behind a human shield when we were required to carefully aim for the head rather than just allow the automatic painting to do the work. This should also help to avoid friendly fire more often and hopefully stop our horse from getting an untimely death. The old man, who's assuming an obvious mentor role at this point, is a very welcome change from the miscreants we've been running with as of late. His critique of Marston's skills as being "unhoned" and "sloppy" seem odd, considering nobody's proven to be a decent match yet, but I guess we'll have to take his word for it. He seems to know what he's talking about.

Mexico has been an adventure so far, and we've barely stepped into it. The atmosphere is just as distinct and well crafted as New Austin, so I look forward to seeing what else this dangerous land has to offer.

Entry #52: The Shady Peddler of Lies

We arrived at the town we were aiming for, but a shady-looking man pulled us aside before we could enter. He wanted us to help him steal a carraige in exchange for pesos or whatever currency they use in this land. As we planned to live a life of crime as a Mexican outlaw, we accepted. The job was easy enough, but come time to collect payment, he didn't seem to give us anything. Bryan was ready to shoot his horses, or possibly the man himself, but I roared out for him to stop. He wanted to kill this peddler of lies, but I told him we would NEVER make it in Meh-hee-ko by making enemies, amigo! He darkly agreed and our intense debate was at an end. We are now camping outside town, waiting for dawn and our first entrance. I feel ominous waves from this new adventure.

Entry #51: Mexico

After a thrilling raft ride with Irish, we made it to the other side in one piece. He made some funny jokes, gave us some terrible advice, and rode off to leave us all alone. Fortunately, our horse apparently grew wings and flew to our rescue, but lost the wings before we could see it with wings. Now we wander the lonely fields of Mexico feeling alienated and out of place, wondering if Mexicans eat Americans or use them for gladitorial events. Heck, that's what we'd do to Mexicans! All racism aside, it's time to find Bill.

We're Going to Mexico, What's it Matter?

It's me again, Steeeeeeephen! We took a break to play Viewtiful Joe, which thoroughly beat us. Oh, it's fun, but entirely cruel.

Well, reader whom I feel the need to call "pardner", this is our last American entry before heading off to foreign soil. We were almost to our buddies Irish and Mr. West Dickens (and I use the term loosely; Irish, that is) when a fellow stopped us and asked to compete is some foolish race... or some annoying thing... well... we shot him in the leg.

"We're going to Mexico, what's it matter?"

Entry #49: Liars and Cheats and We Shoot Their Legs

The tailor was alive and well. We bought most of what we needed from him and headed back to our pad. One of the things we bought, being sneaky and all, was a suit that would allow us to cheat at Liar's Dice and Poker! We strolled into the saloon cocky as could be and found us another game of Liar's Dice. Not long into it we found our ability to cheat was oddly absent and had to sit through a slow decline into loss. Angry at this, we charged out, regrouping in our house once more. We found out, much to our dismay, that the Elegant Suit (the one we had used) only let you cheat in Poker. While I suggested we do this posthaste, Stephen had a different idea in mind. We had a bandana now, which would let you do anything you wanted without affecting fame or honor, with the only drawback being an increased wanted level. With no law whatsoever in Thieves' Landing, something I just now realized, this really presented an opportunity for us. We were going to head down to the saloon, dressed in a Walton's Gang outfit, and shoot it up, paying those cheaters back for what they did to us. We burst in, shot our prime rival in the leg and commenced in tearing the place apart. When this was done, we kidnapped the liar and headed off to drop him in the river. This we did, but unfortunately we went with him. DEAD.

Since it didn't save our little escapade we had to try again. Things went smoothly until the end when we burst out the back door and discovered there was no railing, sending us flying into the river and... DEAD. SO we headed back a third time, and things seem to be going well now. We've done our duty and are now headed off for the border. To Mexico! Hasta la vista, America! Our plan is to make Mexico the place where we rack up a bounty, letting us allow our lawless side to take control. I look forward to seeing how this will go. Probably poorly.

Entry #48: We Ain't No Sissy

Thieve's Landing isn't a place for a sissy. Luckily, we aren't a sissy. We rode into town and first thing we did was stop a robber. It was a long process though, because we didn't want to kill the guy, but not because we're a sissy or anything. Morals and all that. We took an expertly aimed shot at his leg and downed him before entering into a fistfight which we easily won, tying him up afterwards. But this caught the attention of a passerby who started to fight us himself. Not wanting to kill the argumentative gentleman we led him over to a bridge and entered an epic Battle of the Heroes style duel! Though he fought with gallantry, he soon found himself in the river.  If he can't swim, that's his problem. But at this point the man we'd been chasing had glitched and we couldn't pick him up, so we just left him where he was on the bridge. Finding the tailor was closed, and making quite a ruckus about it, we made our way into the saloon and joined a game of Liar's Dice. Liars indeed, because these fools were cheats, we were sure of it! We lost badly and pulled a gun on the morons, but we soon found a multitude of guns aimed at us. We backed down, though not because we're sissies or nothing, and aimed to leave the place. But hark! A scream rent the air and we saw a man ready to stab some lady. (An all-too-common sight.) We downed him, but a price came with that: namely, a price on our head. (Not literally, it wasn't a bounty or anything. People just started shooting at us.) We charged away from the saloon and through an empty building, losing our pursuers and heading to our house in town to lay low for the night. Now that a new day has dawned we're hoping the tailor will open at some point and allow us to finally pick up those scraps.

#47: Entry With No Name

We cleaned up Pike's Bason good. We also found Jimmy Saints in another spot of trouble. Where will that man turn up next? That's about all I have to say. That went even quicker than I thought it would.

#46: I Was A-Bittin' By a Rattlesnake Please Adopt Me

"Immolate him, immolate him!"

That was the chant leaving my lips as we stared at our new prisoner. Yes, we had brought another one back to our house, and were contemplating how to bring about his demise. Right when we were doubting our evil ways... we heard a rattlesnake. A new idea sprung into our minds and we tossed him outside, placing him next to the deadly creature. But it wouldn't strike. Maybe he was being too still... we untied him and he made a break for it, but... zapow! We lassoed him good and dragged him back towards his awaiting doom. Still no move from the snake as we walloed the man's face into it, eventually even getting the snake on top of him. Things at last went somewhere when he let him go and the snake bit out upon his sudden move for freedom. We followed him awhile, considering a few options, including immolating him anyway, since he might spread the poison. We decided we had to take pity on the sick bloke, as the house's evil influence was diminishing, for we we were a ways off from it by now. So, we took him in to see the doctor at Armadillo. It was late, so we had to leave on on the doorstep with a note reading: "I was a-bittin' by a rattlesnake please adopt me." We trust the good doctor will see things our way and take pity. It's off to Thieves' Landing for us after we stayed in our house for one last night. I'm thinking we should turn outlaw in Mexico, because I don't like Mexicans. Stephen says he doesn't endorse this, but I plan to let him play just long enough before we make the trip to let me have a go at the controls again.

Entry #45: Good Deeds and Their Rewards

We did our good deed of the day and returned a missing safe to the Armadillo bank. In doing so we even found a piece of the Walton Gang outfit that had been eluding us! All that's left is to purchase the last scrap at Thieves' Landing (which is where we're headed) and we'll finally complete one of those darn things.

Entry #44: Gone!

He wasn't there. We must've killed a hundred or two bandits and Bill had already fled the scene. To Mexico, no less! So it looks like we're maybe about halfway through the game and are done with the America "campaign". I wonder how different it'll be down south? Will everyone speak Spanish? If so, we'll have to learn fast, or just shoot everyone who could possibly be insulting us. First we've got some stuff to tie up in America, though, such as jumping over fences and TNT. That's an integral part of this land.

Entry #43: Impending Invasion

This entry must be quick, for I sense impatience from my companion and my own heart. (He didn't say nothing, by the way.) So we were travelling to Fort Mercer, stopping only to knife fight wolves, being the tough cowboy we are. (And to pick a few flowers.) But we made it, and were better for it, too. Now we are within West Dickens' cart and ready at the gatling gun. We suspect this isn't actually going to be the end of the game, as that would be rather lame, and I've heard the game specifically has multiple climaxes. Unless the glass eye was one of them, I have to think there's more past this. But will this end in Bill's death? Time will tell. And I probably will too, soon.

Entry #42: Boringness

Boring day in Armadillo. We got there before sunrise and were hoping to visit the gunsmith. Still closed, though, and we had to bide our time. There wasn't one mite of amusement going on that day beyond a quick game of "Dog-Hopping" (hopping over a dog), which was a major disappointment for a man looking to kill time. Eventually the gunsmith *did* open, but had nothing new to sell. We reluctantly decided against shooting him and went on our way. Oh! Stephen got into a duel on the way out! Things are looking up.

Entry #41: Wrecked

Well, that didn't go well. On the way to Armadillo we came across a man in need. He wanted us to get his wagon back. We obliged, even though he may have been a lying crook and hiring us to steal someone else's wagon, and charged out after the offender. The wagon was *fast*, though, and even our new stallion couldn't keep up. We were forced to draw our gun and end things the hard way. Then we jumped onto the wagon and rode it back towards its rightful owner, but not without incident. Seconds after taking control we smashed it against the rocks and wrecked it, sending us sprawling into the middle of the road. Marston laid there, seemingly dead. He continued to lay there. Seemingly dead. And continued to. And people passed by, seeming to not notice. It was very obvious we had just had a wreck, but they didn't care So, we reloaded our old save and are no heading out. It's all for the best. In that save we had also fist-fought several farmfolk and tied them up. I wasn't feeling too good about that, especially since there was a witness. Stephen says it was all okay, because it started with someone insulting us, but I maintain we need to keep a cool head after The Incident.

Entry #40: Distractions Abound!

It's been quite a long while! Nearly 24 hours, in fact. What was to be a short break led to be a very long one when we began to play the *other* game we have out from GameFly: Viewtiful Joe. We missed it when it first came out back in 2003 (was it 2003? Somewhere around there at least) and decided to give it a go. It may have been unwise, considering we're also playing through a game of immense size, so it goes. Things took longer than expected, however, when just the first level alone took us multiple hours! We ran across giant helecopter mini-boss that gave us endless trouble, and as the night came to its close we threw down the collective and metaphorical controller in anger and called it a night. Today we picked it up once more, deciding to go with the game's easier difficulty... "Kids". (Rather than adults.) It was a bit demeaning, though the boss posed to trouble, at least. But this wouldn't do, and soon we were back fighting the dreaded battle at its correct difficulty. We discovered we'd missed a key component (kicking the bullets back at it for those interested) and had little trouble dealing with it with that in mind. We then tore through the rest of the first level and finished, a distinct sense of accomplishment present with the feat.

Another thing that took up a good deal of our time was E3 coverage. We've watched all of the Big Three's press conferences at last and rank them as follows: Nintendo, Sony, Microsoft. It's a pretty common order, for us, anyway. I won't go into great detail, but some of the highlights included Uncharted 3, Nintendo's new machine, the Wii U, and Halo 4's announcement. But enough about new and upcoming games! We have old games to play, and you can't get older than one in the wild west! I'll pretend that makes sense and turn back to the game now. The fortress will soon fall!

Entry #39: Ammo!

Slimeballs. All a bunch of slimeballs. Yep. So we worked with Irish again, against our better judgement, and met his friend, "Shaky", who was little better. Several large gunfights and many dead men later we got the ammo and rode off with Irish, who refused to take any part in the combat whatsoever. I think he may have some moral thing against killing people. It looks like we're at last ready to attack the fort, though, so hopefully we'll be able to say goodbye to this motliest of motley crews soon.

Entry #38: A Sickly Town

We found that everything that needed doing in the town was located in the saloon. But the place was less than impressive. It had a piano player, sure... but that was about the only patron apart from an old, well-to-do lady sitting with prim posture on a sickly green sofa. Speaking of sickly green, it was the color of the entire room. We made our exit with haste and found the real saloon next door. Weird. There wasn't much in there either, however, in the ally next to it we found our old friend irish. From a distance I was worried he was holding a knife to two nuns, but of course not. It was a gun. After Marston took his rage out on the drunken fellow we headed off to follow him. We need parts for the gatling gun, you see. It doesn't yet work. Also, I forgot to mention we, for some unknown reason, bought a house in this mudpit. It's also sickly green, and we are not a fan of how sissy the interior is, but it's all worth it for the roof. We can climb on the roof. Oh, but one more thing! While we were ambling about the town we heard cries. This is pretty normal, but we responded all the same, as a lady was being carried off by some vagabond! We shot the man in the legs, but he fought well. He eventually did go down, and the lady thanked us. Something was amiss, however. Them man's body outright  disappeared! We came to a horrifying conclusion: the lady was a crazed cannibal and devoured the man in mere moment! What looked like her being carried off was actually here leaping upon her victim and tearing at him. We felt just awful after this realization, but there was nothing to do. Some things just turn out rotten, and that's a fact.

Cannibal lady
Ugly, empty tavern
New house

Entry #37: Strangers Never Go Away

So we've come to Thieves' Landing. It's made an impression. Whether or not that's a good impression is another matter entirely. It's sure different, though. Wet, dark, rainy, and overall swampy, this place is a break from the old west, though not necessarily a good one. Right upon entering the city we got hailed by a shopkeeper asking us to catch a thief. He made some "witty" remark about there being "nothing like a gunpowder burning contest" and Stephen retorted, with excellent form, mind you: "Nothing like a tie you up and throw you into the authorities contest!" And he didn't even do that! He gave the man over to the shopkeeper. We also found out Liar's Dice is a playable game. This place is getting better. Though it's still pretty dicey.

Oh! Also, on the way here-- Five Fingered Filet! I like this place! Anyway, on the way here we found a kindly old man picking flowers for his wife. He then enlisted our aid in collecting some flowers for him. (I suspect he's really concocting a terrible plague with which to destroy the local populace, but I may be wrong.) Stephen asked if this quest was an immediate concern or if it would stay forever and I remarked: "Strangers never go away." "Sounds deep..." he replied. Yes indeed, it is deep. So deep that I need to think on that and not write anything else. Ever.

Entry #36: Mugwiggle?

Well, we named our horse. We decided we would call it whatever word we heard spoken first. It took awhile to meet all the prerequisites, which included it not being spoken by Marston and it being an actual noun or adjective or something and not something like "the", "a", or "come". We overheard some gossip as we headed into our house in the farm. A man was talking about a "freight train". That was the name, then: Freight Train. Works great, since it rhyme with "no name". That makes our old song quite intact. After this momentous decision, we headed off for Thieves' Landing, a place we've been looking forward to seeing since oh before you were born. On route we found some stranger by a lake. Seems like swamp country around here. I wonder if he's a mugwiggle or whatever those are called. Probably? I don't know.

Entry #35: Only Irish Left

Mr.West Dickens: liar, cheat, money grubber, and accomplice. He still didn't have enough to help us, so we entered a horse race in his name. It was a close and exciting event as riders rode neck and neck with one another. We dearly wanted to shoot our fellow racers, but withheld the urge for fear of disqualification. The likable and hateable Mr. West Dickens wanted to bask in the glory of our victory, but Marston preferred cash. Finally the portly philanthropist caved and agreed to help us; but first we must hold Irish to his end of the deal. We decided to focus more on the story and less on our bizarre adventures, heart-breaking and wondrous as they may be.

We have discovered in Rathskeller Fork that Blackjack is a playable game in Red Dead Redemption, which bodes well for our gambling days. But no, we've wasted enough time! We'll save it for later. The room nearby cost a-hunnerd dollars to purchase, causing us to wonder why we wouldn't just sleep in the open plains free of charge. Is there any gameplay purpose whatsoever? Can you keep different horses at different locations? The horse system confuses us to no end. Perhaps these mysteries will become clear as we aid our drunken Irish friend.

Off we go!

Entry #34: Back to the Old Grindstone

We decided that our act of murder was wrong. We used a letter of pardon and resumed a lawful life (but not before committing arson). We couldn't catch a new horse on foot, though we certainly tried, and were forced to spend most of our money on a Kentucky saddler. I suppose we'll have to think up a name here soon, and I'm glad our madness has subsided. It's time to focus on our true goal: PROTECTING OUR HOUSE WITH OUR LIIIIIIIIVES!

Entry #33: Good or Evil?

We did it. The deed is done and over with. We struggled to time the train with our plan (villains deserve more credit for their time management skills), but finally had our lawman, kicking and screaming, tied up on the track. The train wasn't far behind and came choo-chooing its way around the bend. We scampered for cover to watch from a hill lest someone spot us and report this to the authorities. With a mixture of horror and delight, we watched as the massive vehicle rammed into our victim, blowing him into a shower of blood and smoke. When the dust settled we turned our gaze to the new horse. He was a witness. Without thinking it through, we killed him with a shotgun and walked away, our shoes making bloody footprints in the wake of our murder.

Now, come the next day, we wander aimlessly in MacFarlane's Ranch, playing horshoes, poker, and chicken-kicking. Did we do wrong or did we serve justice? There are only two options. We will either turn ourselves in if what we committed was evil, or we will destroy every lawman in the world if our deeds were true.

There is no in between.

Entry #32: To Kill a Lawman

We caught ourselves a lawman and brought him home. After lost his pathetic friends, we covered him in bait and waited for the wild animals to eat him. Only one fox came, though, so we decided a new devious plan must be schemed up.
"We could throw him in a bandit camp and cut him free," suggested Bryan.
"We could drown him in the river!" I put forth.
"Or we could stampede him," Bryan said.
"With a horse?" I asked doubtfully.
After a moment more of thought, it came to us both in a flash. "Tie him to a railroad track!"

Tonight there will be lawman blood.

Entry #31: What we need is LAWMAN blood!

We were on the verge of shooting our new horse in anger, but I proposed that too much horse blood has already been spilt on this account. What we need is LAWMAN blood! So now we embrace our companion, taking him on a great escapade of justice. We plan to capture the highest ranking lawman we can find, tie him up, and kindap him. What happens after that is entirely left to our mercy, which is emptier than the soul of a lawman.

Entry #30: All Fun and Games Until Someone Loses a Horse

There we were: waking up in our own house after fending off that lousy lawman by accidentally shooting him to death. He stole our horse and Bryan almost mistakingly shot the beast, but he was spared. The lawman wasn't so lucky. As I already said. But then, lol and behold, there was a man approaching. He was peering about in a suspicious way, and was no doubt a spy from the police out to get us. After all, we were wanted men. We knocked him down and tied him up, planning to haul him off to Armidillo to purchase some bait; the bait of his fate. Unfortunately, our plan went horribly awry. Another fellow caught sight of us mistreating him, and called for the sheriff. We tried to shut him up, but two more folks rode by-- there were too many of them! Word got out, the lawmen arrived, and a chaotic shootout started to ensue. We dashed up the slope to our house and whistled for our horse, but... the horse did not come. We whistled again, and a different horse appeared. What was happening? Where was our true horse? We evaded the cops and our worst fears were confirmed:

The horse with no name was dead.

Rage and sorrow boiling to the surface, we murdered all three lawmen with swift retribution. Now hike the heated desert with nary a friend in sight, man or beast. Our new horse will not leave us be, but we are unstable and unready to accept a new steed just yet. Maybe we'll find a new one back at town, but it'll be hard to replace the sturdy, trusting figure that was our tamed stallion. And we promise our dead horse...

REVENGE.

Entry # 29: E3 Buffers as Our Conscience Suffers

After all those unsavory memories with Seth, we decided it was high time to do some good deeds. Instead of stealing a safe full of money, we risked our lives to return it safely (PUN!). We also took care to merely wound or capture our enemies instead of killing them, which made us feel morally sophisticated. Unfortunately, we proceeded to help Mr. West Dickens with his job, so our honorable brownie points disappeared in the dust.

To make matters worse, we watched the Microsoft press conference fro E3 2011. It wasn't buffering very well, and a number of skips and glitches made it frustrating to watch. We finally gave up halfway through the Halo: CE HD remake port thing, which looked pretty darn neat. Tomb Raider was also pretty darn neat. The rest was mostly Kinect and shooters. Lots of it was both.

But back more Wild Western dilemmas. While I was having nothing to do with the game, Bryan found a small camp of lawmen. He decided to kick their bedrolls away from the fire, which he delighted in doing. With no reaction to speak of, he kicked the actual lawmen. Still no doubt frustrated with the lack of trouble, Bryan ran them over with a horse.

We are currently holed up in our Edgar Allen Poe House (as a call it, due to the raven-like birds that perch atop its roof and the haunted legend it has secured) and trying to survive without being murderers. We might die.

Entry #28: A Train Hits Us

On our way to see Seth, we wandered into a regular ghost town. There was a big, creepy house that looked precisely like a haunted mansion should look. We investigated and decided that nobody was home. But then-- bang! Someone was shooting at us! We fired from the upstairs window and took him down. However, we lost honor in doing so, and he was apparently innocent. Perhaps he was simply defending his lonely house, which we can relate with.

Speaking of dead people, Seth was being Seth. This disturbed us. He had us storm the very same house we already examined, but this time it was filled with bloodthirsty killers! We fought our way to a locked chest and our Gollumy friend was overjoyed with ugly pleasure. He broke the lock (and law) and found, after so much whining and yearning, nothing more than a glass eye. He freaked out, but it was probably for the best. Maybe this will force him to reexamine his miserable life.

A train is about to hit us OH N---

Entry #27: Jimmy is a Little Tied Up at the Moment (His Words, Not Mine)

As it turns out, that lost person wasn't dead like the others. We found someone with a broken leg (after pulling our gun, failing the mission, and reloading; a little sensitive, that crime system) who wanted us to track down his assailant. Unfortunately, he merely wanted to eat him. Yes, we have discovered the cannibal of Hanging Rock, and he is not native. We killed him, however, and went about our business.

Our business, as it were, included Seth-- or Gollum, as I now call him. His pleading, pathetic nature and total loss of human dignity reminds me heavily of Smeagol, which does come with a certain amount of pity. For it is truly pity and pity alone that stays our hand when dealing with such a wretched, little freak. He was talking to corpses as usual, and he gave him a ride in a cart, fending off villains as we drove. It was quite exciting and even reminded us a little of Uncharted 2.

Next up was a trip back to the mines, where we found disgruntled miners. They had captured a treasure hunter, who exploded, and Jimmy Saint. Mr. Saint wanted to get out of his early grave under the earth, and we obliged him by punching a hole (figuratively) out through a wall of bad guys. But Bryan thought waving a knife through the air in what I can only imagine was an attempt to scare them off. It didn't work. We are now replaying that sequence.

Entry #27: Hidden Gold

We have found treasure! We were on our way to Hanging Rock to find another missing person and stumbled upon a place that looked strikingly similar to the location illustrated on our treasure map. It wasn't long before we found the exact spot of the buried gold, which made us happy as two optimistic and happy people. Even better, another map was enclosed within the chest, so our treasure-hunting days shall not end now! And that guy wants to have a plant race.

Entry #26: Shooting Rabbits and Jerks

We strike out for the great plains of New Austin once more, ready and willing to do many things of a cowboy variety. I am no longer tired and being murdered with allergies, so that is well. Here is the first bit of conversation on this day:

Me: Did you run over a rabbit?
Bryan: No.
BANG
Me: Did you shoot one?
Bryan: Yes.

Then we got throw in jail for two days on account of assault, all because we killed this guy who was stabbing this lady... not because of the raccoon incident. Another great start!

Entry #25: The Perfect Evening (And the Spiffy Day That Followed)

This is going to be a meaty one. Since my wingman, Stephen, has fallen with yet another affliction (this time being tired or something like that) it falls on me to relate what's happened over this past hour. (Throughout all of which I was playing once more.) First off, we left the town to find the irishman and get our revenge. Marston was understandably angry at the drunk, an indignation we largely shared. But he promised to make it up to us by leading us to the machine gun's whereabouts: deep within a mine. Exciting. When we approached the mine our slippery friend once more decided to stay out of the firefight (something he opted to do earlier when leaving us to rot) and instead find a cart to transport the thing with. We agreed, though reluctantly, and marched towards the guards. The game apparently decided we hadn't learned how to use multi-targeting with Dead Eye yet (something we'd been relying on like crazy ever since it first became available) and thought this would be a good training session for it. After taking out the duo a large firefight ensued with the nearby miners. The irishman (named Irish. Novel.) had better have been right about this, as we were killing miners left and right to gain access to their workplace. Once inside, we switched to our trusty shotgun and sauntered through the twisting caverns, blowing away any opposition with style. (Which often included TNT; that's what I mean by stylish.) The best part arrived when we came upon a mine cart and got to ride it out which concluded with a spectacular move of firing from the back of the cart and hitting a TNT barrel in our path, killing the crony nearby along with it.

Our task was complete, and we were all the better for it, as a machine gun was now in our possession. It really struck us how much variety Read Dead keeps heaping on. Every mission brings something new and entertaining to the table, and the events in between are even better. Checking our map I noticed the funny man, Jimmy Saints, was nearby. W found the spot, but the map seemed to be telling us he was *beneath* us. This was very curious indeed. For the sake of exploration we jumped (or fell) into the open mineshaft nearby and found out the hard way that that wasn't the greatest idea. Though it struck us both how excellent the falling animation looked, as Marston went bouncing down the shaft, ricocheting off beams in his descent. Stephen even thought it was a canned animation leading us into a cutscene.

Stephen was really getting tired at this point, so we decided to head back to the house. We couldn't go to sleep right away, though. Oh no, things required some doing. The property had to be kept clear, and we had some hunting to catch up with. These two things combined quite admirably when we found a pelt-collector camped nearby who gave us some bait to catch a few deer. Bait was something we'd forgotten about using in the past, and we soon find it was an excellent way to attract wildlife and fill 'em with lead. (Well, that latter part would also require a gun. Otherwise bait would be nifty indeed.) Continuing our rounds, we came upon a few lawman camped about a crackling fire. Curious to test our previous theories, we leapt upon one of their horses and began to ride off. They responded with sudden anger, one of them going so far as to grab our own horse and ride after us. At this we began to panic, not wanting to lose our prize stallion, and lassoed the man off, taking back what was rightfully ours. The one who seemed to be the leader of the lot had his gun out at this point and was firing at us. We decided to give peace a shot this time and drop down from our horse, holstering our gun and waiting for the hostilities to cease. This was not the case, as the man instead started to fill us with lead, and we had no choice but to bribe him, losing a good sum of honor in the process.

And so we continued on our way, searching for any other troublemakers gazing about our property. We found some people, but they seemed innocent enough. A couple simple travellers camped about a fire. We discovered for the first time that we could sit at the fire with them and listen to a yarn or two. The one they told was a familiar tale, though, as it was ours. After sitting for a spell we continued on our way, though not before shooting at a cactus for a reason I can't recall and accidentally sending the fine folk fleeing in panic. At this point it was getting late, and the moon was high in the sky, so we rode back towards the old house, ready to call it a night. But things were not well. A man was sneaking about our property all suspicious like, and I tell you, this would not do! We gave chase, soon catching up with the offender and roping him in, the vermin. He struggled for a bit, even got his gun out, but to no avail. We soon had him tied up and at our mercy. It was then we had an idea: bait! We dropped the man in front of our house and sprinkled some of our bottled bait on top of him, after which we scurried away and threw ourselves atop the roof, rifle in hand and eyes trained towards the helpless victim.

We waited. And soon they came. Foxes, by the look of them. We opened fire and took one or two out. Success! After spreading some more bait we returned to the roof top, opening fire once more upon the arriving foxes and taking some down. Stephen then had an idea: why not leave him to the animals rather than scaring them off with our gunfire? It's more than he deserved. We took a liking to this plan and used the last of our bait, retreating into our house this time and closing the door behind us. We heard them coming again and strained to get a look out the window. We didn't want to scare them off, however, so we retreated to the back of the house. We decided it would be a good time to change clothes, while we were waiting, and got back into the duster coat. (We'd changed out of it a little while back.) When we finished and opened the door them an was gone, a pile of blood (or bait) being the only sign of his past presence. It was finished.

We had one shell left in my shotgun at this point and wanted something to shoot with it before heading for bed, so we set off for one last look at the property. We didn't find much beyond a rabbit, and Stephen convinced me not to shoot it, but rather to just kick it around for awhile, which I did. After a bit more searching I at last did find something: (Stephen was practically asleep at this point) a man. A man asking me how good of a shot I was. Well, I'd show him how good...

Without hesitation I blasted the man in the legs and rode off, knowing he was still alive by the bullets zipping past me as I made my retreat. It was the perfect ending to the perfect night when... he followed me. I was inside the house at this point, hearing bullets zip around the rotting wood. I decided to confront the pursuer and saw him limping through the hills towards me. I whipped out my rifle and shot his gun right of his hands, following this up with a quick whip of the lasso, using this to tie him up and let him roll down the hill and into some brush. This was truly the perfect end to a perfect evening, and I slept soundly that night.

When dawn broke I could see a storm was brewing in the distance. A nasty one at that. Animals would be seeking shelter from it, and I had to make sure they wouldn't find any. I downed many bird and beast before realizing a good solution to my problem. Break the windows. Then they couldn't find shelter within and would move on. I spent many an hour charging about our property and even found some wolves at our doorstep. As Stephen pointed out, they would've already been inside if not for the broken windows. Ha ho. Things were at their lowest, however, when, having nothing to do, I realized I needed to make use of our wonderful house and do something in it. So I stood on top of our bed and repeatedly whistled. It was quite a way to pass the time, but, after some complaints from Stephen, (claiming it was disturbing his rest or something) Idecided it was high time to get into town; replenish my ammo and the like. So I called for my horse (amazingly he wasn't numb to whistling at this point) and rode away. Along the way I took out a deer, garnering a new level of the hunting challenge (earlier I killed enough coyotes to get a new level of the marksmanship level) and, with Stephen heading for bed, figured it was time to call it in. Against all odds I got a fire started and saved the game, and boy am I ready to start again tomorrow. This game is awesome. 

Entry #24: Virtual Horse Metaphors

We're back at town to restock, and Bryan's taken up the virtual reigns again. Speaking of reigns, nobody seems to care if we a-steal their horses. Now Bryan bribed a policeman over a fistfight. Great start. That's about it for now, just switching virtual saddles here.

Entry #23: Drunk as a Skunk and Just as Smelly, Too

The lying stinky-face! Get this, the drunken irishman wasn't trustworthy! We have half a mind to kill him. The other half is concerned with beating him silly. He was supposed to lead us to a machine gun, but instead lead us to a lot of other guns... with people holding them! And they shot at us, too. We'll get our vengeance yet, though. We've having trouble running across anyone we can even remotely trust at this point. With the ranch missions behind us, at least for now, and the marshall ones as well, we're stuck with an odd "crack team" of sorts. Maybe we'll go wander around and find something useful to do. I'd like to make use of this treasure map sometime.

Entry #22: Scumbaggery

Mr. West Dickens has taken scumbaggery to a new level. If you don't count the murderous mulitude of misinthropes who exceeded even Dickens' scumbaggishness. During our trek with him on his lovely little carriage he revealed the depths of his foul trickery. He also revealed that he was entering us into a race. An easy race, at that, since we won it without trouble. We wished it would allow us to shoot the other racers, though, as that would've made it far more exciting. But such is life. Very unexciting around these parts. We now have to find a drunken arms dealer to stop the evil outlaw Bill who's nearly killed us once before and won't rest until he does it right the next time. See ya.

Entry #21: Funny Man

There we go again. Jumping (or walking) onto trains we have no business being on. Luckily for us, jumping off does not kill us. Though we did have some reason to get on this particular train. It took us away from a certain man with extreme speed. This man called himself Jimmy Saint. The name sparked a reminder in Stephen's brain: he'd read about him in the paper; Jimmy was a novelist or some such thing. Jimmy went on at length about how exciting and incredible the Old West was to him, and he was most obviously from the east, and all the worse for it. For some reason the game just zoomed in and forced us to watch a guy holding up a newspaper. Very odd. Our next task is to visit old West Dickens, which I find quite pleasing, since he has some of the most entertaining dialogue in the game, and that's saying quite a lot. On a side note, did I mention our PS3 is propped up on soup cans? There's no real reason for this, we just feel that's how the cowboys in the old days did things. No, really, it was overheating where we had it and making a great deal of noise, so this way it's better of functionally and way better off aesthetically. But enough of that. We have an odd old man to converse with.

Entry #20: Crazy Men

So we helped a crazy man. I guess we all need to stick together. It's odd playing through missions that teach us things we already know so well. This mission was teaching us how to hogtie people and throw 'em on our horse, something we mastered very early on. My suspicion is growing that Seth will end up being the final boss, and I fear we will never be prepared for that moment. We just now bought a new edition of the paper. We haven't had one of those in awhile. So, I'm off to read that now.

Entry #19: Another Night

Well, upon reloading we found we were back at our house, and it was getting late. So, we spent another paranoid night stalking the grounds for any intruders. We found one, as it was making a good deal of noise: an armadillo. We chased it around the property before finally catching up and giving it a good kick down a ridge. But there were more. Many-- Stephen's chasing a raccoon as I type. And kicking it. Anyway, there were more. Many more. We soon were dashing about, crouched, dagger in hand, causing the vermin to flee every which way, and startling passersby. But this all accrued to our benefit, for people should fear this place. They should fear us! We're leaving now to go find Seth, but this place is safe in the hands of the reputation we've built for it. Dead rabbits aren't trivial things, you know.

Entry #18: A Break

After a break that led to a longer break that led to another thing that made the break even longer, we are back and ready to help Seth out in his curious exploits. Though soon we'll be having dinner, which, I think, will constitute a break.

Entry #17: New Ways

Things are going well. Today when someone asked us for a favor in Armadillo we just pointed a gun at his chest and sent the man running. We then picked up some ammo and rode off to find one "Seth" who the snake oil salesman recommended we speak to. Upon seeing the odd little wretch I can't see why he'll be of much use. He's after some sort of map, and we apparently need to help him find it. We are a bit richer for this journey, however. We found $13 in the run-down church.

Entry #16: Who Needs Sleep?

After our harrowing night of swearing off being good, we took that to heart when dealing with the local wildlife around our house. We killed and skinned a rabit at our doorstep to serve as an example then hopped up to our roof (our old watchtower) and looked for birds. We got one before realizing a horrible fact. If we went to sleep inside, someone could climb on the roof and shoot through it to kill us. Conversely, if we slept on the roof, someone could walk inside and shoot us through the roof. This led to our leaping off the roof and charging into our outhouse. Before we could panic anymore about sleeping arrangements, however, we realized it was already dawn. So, we set off down our path, finding a wild horse all too close to our property and spending many a bullet to send it on its way, shooting it in the leg even. Stephen also just made an amazing shot, hitting a songbird that was at least 15 miles off. Impressive.

Entry #15: No More Good Deeds

Too many good deeds. We saved Bonnie after quite a gunfight. We even found a run-down saloon in the place that we're thinking of sprucing up and running it. We'll name it: "Marston's Martinis". After asking our horse to give us a few reasons not to shoot it, we rode it away from the desolate town. We ran across yet another good need needing doing (a woman lost her cart) and did the deed that needed the doing. While I've been writing this Stephen sauntered into someone's house and started rooting around in their personal closets. He had to pay a witness to keep it all quiet. Blast! Now somebody's asking us for a ride. When will this end? Oh. She stole our horse. That's it. Now more good deeds.

Entry #14: The Dead Man Peter

Well, we found Peter. Or should we say, the dead man Peter. Or should we say, the dead man Peter's TOMBSTONE. He might not be dead, but the tombstone made him seem like a dead man. And that is that, and that is a fact.

That aside, things are bad. Bonnie's been kidnapped by Bill's men and we have to ride with the Marshall to get her back. Given our track record for hostages, this could go very, very badly. We're enjoying the riding sections, though, as they look great and are filled with fascinating dialogue. So, I'd like to get back to that now, in fact. I'll update you soon.

Entry #13: Good Fellow

Our second time into Armadillo went little better. When I was off getting ice cream, Stephen got himself into some trouble with the law when he shot a man who was attacking some lady. This apparently counted as a count of assault and the citizenry started attacking him. After losing the lawmen, he headed back into town, dodged a few bullets, and paid off the bounty. We then actually made it into the tavern and talked to the stranger. He had information about Peter, the poor soul trapped inside the Vial of Nagranth. But he wouldn't loosen his tongue unless we either paid him $5 or talked his wife into staying with him. He seemed like a jerk, but we decided to give talking his wife a go. On the way there, however, a shopkeeper ran up, yelling about a theif. We (quite literally) dragged the thief back into town and handed him over. Yet another good deed done. By this time the man's wife had disappeared, though, so we just gave him the $5, learned that Peter was dead, and went on our way. It seemed things we finally winding down when several vagabonds on horseback rode into town, firing their pistols with a terrible lack of accuracy, as they were just shooting up into the clouds. We shot them up without so much as a mite of trouble and we're now heading off somewhere. Where are we going? Oh, yes, Odd Fellow's Rest. Where it was said Peter is now. It's a graveyard, you see, so I was able to deduce that Peter is dead. Or the lantern is there. Take  your pick.

Entry #12: The Outfit

Our day has already been a productive one. On our way to Aramadillo we found a poor man being shot at by yet another pair of malcontents. We took them down with little trouble and got something quite maginificant for our work. With that act we'd earned enough honor to unlock the Duster Coat: a spiffy trenchcoat-esque outfit. When heading back to our house to try it on we came upon a couple campers a ways away. We figured it was the same people we'd scared off looking for a place to relocate. We decided to leave them be, though. Unforunately, when we arrived in Armadillo and waltzed into the saloon, the game locked up. Bah. We were just approaching a stranger, too. Well, I'm going to grab some tasty ice cream while Stephen rides back into town.

Entry #11: OUR House

We're fools to leave this property alone as long as we do. Why, we came home to find a bird perching on our roof. ON OUR ROOF! We promptly shot the thing dead, but it collapsed its bloody corpse onto our overhang. We clambered up after it and plucked its feathers. Then a man approached. We were about ready to shoot him too when he gave us a sad story: His wife was going to be hanged soon, and he couldn't do nothing about it. We decided if there were vermin on our property it  was our concern, so we followed the man and readied ourselves. Not enough, however, for when the time came, we fumbled yet again to even draw our gun and everyone but us ended up dead. Although this was to our liking, it's a sad story. We headed back to our little shack, shooting wildlife along the way. While watching a stunning sunset and commenting uponthe lack of apprecation for foot posture, we spotted a couple ruffians making camp just beyond the footpath leading to our house. This wouldn't do. We let off a round into their midst and yelled them a warning. They took this pretty well and charged off on their horses, but not before firing back once or twice. After this victory we headed for bed, thogh it was perhaps a bit early. We got up around midnight, so we're going to sleep some more.

Entry #10: The House

On our way to Aramdillo, since that's where all our work takes us, we decided to haphazardly aim our gun at the man who wants our treasured property. Somehow he saw us even though we were all the way up on a high ridge and it said we failed the quest. While we're fine with this, if it means never handing over the deed to that scumbag, we worry it may also not allow us to use the house as our residence anymore. It's not showing up OH MY GOSH WE'RE GOING TO BE RUN OVER BY A-- oh. It stopped. I thought we were dead there. Anyway, did I ever mention we jumped on a train from our horse before? It was very exciting, you see. Thrilling, even. But we bailed when we learned the train was on its way to Mexico. Mexico! Yeesh. So we're off to our house to make sure nothing funny has happened to it. Oh, good, it's still our house. It just doesn't show up on the map for some reason. Oh, wait, now it *is*. Weird. Well, it's all good. All good. I hope you enjoyed this disjointed entry. I tend to get nervous and disconcerted whenever our house is in an jeopardy whatsoever.

Entry #9: Take Three

We're learning things the hard way here. As our first act of swashbucklery (Stephen's wording not mine, though I do endorse it) we decided to track down a local bounty. It wasn't far to the south of the ranch, down by a place called Bristlebrush Ridge. It was quite a sight to behold, but we were here for more... unsavory business. Killin' business. Just weird horse physics sometimes. (Stephen's wording, not mine.) On our first attempt we got ambushed by a few rustlers. We died very fast. On our second attempt we made it as far as the bandit camp. We died pretty fast. On our third attempt, however, we made it so far as to tie up the offending criminal and murder/capture the rest when we realized our lack of foresight would be our doom. For once the villain was disabled, his cronies on horses came bounding up the ridge to save their captive leader. We were caught woefully unprepared and jumped into Dead Eye mode to save our rapidly disappearing lives. Things went awry when our horse leaped in front of us and Stephen was a bit slow with the controls, riddling the skull of our beloved companion with a triple-shot of lead. Moments later we reloaded and were back in our shack on the ranch, ready to head out again.

As I've been typing this, Stephen's been trying yet again, and this time it looks like he's gonna make it. He's riding away with the offender on the back of his horse and rapidly approaching the ranch. Hoorah! With that, I leave you. We are successful, despite our rocky start.

Entry #8: Learning the Ropes

Stephen had quite a time learning the ropes. After the unfortunate shooting, he proceeded to cause more trouble, including sneaking up to people with knives while they slept shouting threatening remarks and walking into a poker game with weapon drawn. Apart from this he bungled a night patrol mission, though even I can't figure how that was his fault. We now head to bed and await the new morning sun, whatever it may bring.

Entry #7: Stephen Just Shot Five Horses

Yep.

Entry #6: On the Road Again

Well, that didn't take long. As suddenly as it came, Stephen's affliction went, and our troubles along with it. We can now continue with our journey, though with one distinct difference: Stephen is now in control. I look forward to chortling at his many failures. But as for where we are... we are at the ranch, and it's 11:00 PM, Sunday. We'll probably start with some meandering about the ranch as Stephen fumbles his way through the controls then head off somewhere. Where, you may ask? Somewhere is all you need know.

Entry #5: The Knife Rider and the Vial of Nagranth

Misfortune abounds, as the dastardly hurtles of man's frail body trip us up on our journey. This is Bryan here, and my partner now lies dead. It was lynchotis, I think, but his body is so eaten up by the darned maggots that it's hard to tell at this point. No, really, Stephen has run into a recurring medical issue that makes him both distracted and grouchy, (it's annoying, you see, as it impairs his hearing) so we've been forced to delay our escapade into the riveting realm of Red Dead Redemption. Our travels did extend somewhat since we last wrote into this journeybook, however, so I shall relate what happened last evening to the best of my ability. (Or at least somewhere in that area.)

Marley was dead. Dead as a doornail. This was the west, though, so it didn't much bother us. We didn't even know who Marley was. Instead, we were strolling into the Marshall's office to find ourselves some work. When the custcene started playing, however, we had to take a brief break, so we paused the unfolding events (a wonderful and all-too-uncommon feature Red Dead has), leaving a striking scene suspended in motion. The actual activity was pretty mundane, just a couple of deputies striding into the office, but something about the detail of the scene looked almost exactly like a movie if you squinted a bit. We marvelled at the detail for quite some time, as it looked considerably better than the rest of what we'd seen. But when the time came to resume, the magic disappeared with the press of a button, never to be seen again. What it was about that one moment, be it the play of the lighting, the angle of the camera, or the subtle placing of the objects, I don't know, but it conveyed a sense of subtle, movie-like realism that transcended the surrounding world. In a word: weird.

But we had a job to do, and gazing at picturesque scenes of western life wasn't part of it. There were rustlers, see, and they were killing people left and right; it was our job to ride with a posse and put an end to the shenanigans. After finding several camps full of dead folks we came to a seemingly abandoned farm. A bit of searching dispelled that myth, however, as we came upon a barn filled with bloodied corpses, complete with one hanging via a noose from the rafters. Things were looking grim indeed, and soon gunfire exploded from the nearby manor, prompting us to charge the ruffians and take the house by storm. Most of this was easy work, except for the final part, where we burst into a room and fired off a shotgun at the final offender. The problem was, he was holding a hostage in front of him at the time, and the shotgun really wasn't the best choice of weapons. Starting over, we charged the house again, this time aiming to shoot the gun out of the varmint's hand. He didn't seem to care, and proceeded to shoot the hostage. Once more, we took it to the villains and burst into the room a third time, succeeding this time and shooting our target dead and saving the lady from his foul clutches.

Things weren't over yet, and after taking a verbal thrashing from the survivors (they were none too happy about what the law was allowing around these parts) we rode off to chase down Bill and his gang, who were apparently behind it all. One thing led to another, and soon we were involved in a massive shootout. This led to a really fun use of the Dead Eye target-painting mechanic, as we were taking men off their horses one after the other. So far combat hasn't presented much of a challenge, but it's the type of game where that's okay. While we're hoping to see more of it as time goes on, that shouldn't be a concern, as the game has been steadily increasing the doses since the start.

Our duty was done, and we even got a hostage out of the whole thing. The day was growing late, and we decided to take a quick rest in our prized house, which was only a short bit away. After this we rode off to the east, stopping to help a few lawmen capture a bandit roaming our property. We came pretty close to shooting the lawmen too, but figured they could go as long as they made haste. After this we rode into Armadillo, finding a man wailing about his lost wife. Always ready to help out those in need (providing they're not on our property at the time) we took the task upon ourselves, galloping off into the deserts to locate the woman. All we succeeded in finding was a pile of blood, a shoe, and what looked like a strange arm. We came to a startling conclusion when we combined this with two other parts related to this side quest.

1. The quest had included finding somebody's son as well, and we had found the same remains.
2. The quest was called "American Appetite".

I then floated the idea that something, or someone, was eating these people. Stephen then suggested that it was a group of wild cannibalistic Indians... not "American Appetite"... "Native American Appetite". With this chilling fact firmly in mind, we rode out of the creepy wilderness and back onto the road. By this point we were nearing the man who wanted to search for water on our property. It was at his prompting that we bought the land in the first place, and we figured if somehow he merely wanted to use the property for a water spring, and not take it from us or anything, it should be okay. With caution, we approached his campsite. To our utter horror, however, we handed the deed over via a cutscene, and got in return no more (or little more) than we'd paid for the property in the first place. In a fit of rage I lassoed the dastardly man to the guy and let off three rounds into his gut, and, victorious, looted the deed back from his now-dead body. But Stephen objected to this, saying that killing a man for the property would only make it haunted... or something. After a good bit of bickering we at last came to the agreement that neither of us would have agreed to approach the camp if we'd known we'd be forced to give the deed up, so we reloaded in old save, forcing us to do a bit of stuff over again, but keeping our conscience clear of any cold, intentional murders... for now, anyway.

During our travels we also met a lady next to a burned down building who wanted us to find "her Peter", who was in a bar in Thieves' Landing, a town we have yet to visit. She seemed... rather confused. She was elderly and in a white dress, insisting that we needed to find Peter for her to have her "perfect day". My theory is she's been waiting for this wedding for decades at this point, and Peter has never shown up, so we'll go into town to find out Peter has actually been dead for some time. Maybe she's even a ghost or something, and cannot find rest until we kill the necromancer who has Peter's soul trapped within a magical lantern, named the Vial of Nagranth. But this is all pure speculation, of course.

Though it took some time, we came to the old farm at last, and helped the locals out by saving their horses from a burning barn, after which we engaged in a pretty dull game of horseshoes. With the stakes only at $1, there wasn't much keeping us invested in the game, and we soon quit, deciding instead to hit the hay (figuratively, even though the literal form would be possible in this environment) and call it a day. (In the real world.) After saving, however, we did what is proper in any game that gives you this choice. We went on a murderous rampage through the farm, sending the populace fleeing in panic. We were quite impressed at how the farm had completely cleared out before we nearly had a chance to actually kill every one, as opposed to most games were civilians will run haplessly about in circles just waiting to get slaughtered. We proclaimed ourselves the "Knife Rider", perched atop our horse with keen blade in hand. Our night came to its end when, in a search for something to kill, we came upon the man who wanted our property (who was alive in this save file) and murdered him. The Knife Rider's work was done; justice had been served.

But for now, our journeys have come to a halt. Hopefully they can resume in the near future, as neither of us have an inkling of a desire to stop playing through this extraordinary game. We'll just have to hope for the best. G'bye.

Entry #4: But the Human Was a Witness

We had $201. Defeating creepy-haggard-scruffy-beard-man in Five Finger Fillet helped, both monetarily and morally. With this money, we intended to purchase some land for a man who wanted it. However, a shootout in the desert distracted us, and in an effort to kill the bad guy, we shot what apparently was an innocent. This, unfortunately, knocked us down $20 to pay off the witness. We were short some cash. By hunting for local wild beasts we gained enough currency to buy the house after all, and did so happily.But this house... does something to a man. It did something...

To us.

We became territorial; violent, even. Any man or beast to invade our rightful property was shot dead. Luckily this only included beasts, as the area was remote and kind of lame. Still, our madness caught fire when we heard fire of another sort: gunfire. We rushed to the scene and saw, lol and behold, another shootout. Having learned our lesson, we once again opened fire. To continue to trend of only murdering beasts, we took out the man's horse. But the human was a witness.

With lasso in hand, we charged after the fleeing victim, our eyes full of fury and anger. He eluded for a time, but eventually luck ran out for him, and we tied him up. The authorities were on us by this time, and we kidnapped the man in a hurry, stowing him away on our horse. Those foolish lawmen couldn't keep up with our prized stallion that has no name, and we tossed our prisoner into the house with a rough shove. Having nothing better to do, we left him to the wild animals that frequent our property.

Then we used a note of pardon to get off scott free. Smiling to ourselves, we strode off to the marshal's office to do the good work of the law.

Entry #3: The Grand Duel of Poker

One word: poker.

We wanted the Walton Gang Outfit, and a scrap of the costume required us to force an entire table of poker players to leave penniless. We found a couple fellow playing in a saloon and decided to enact our devious plan. The first man didn't last long and soon gave up the game, but the other person-- Noah is his name-- was not so easily cowed.

In fact, he was secretly a poker genius.

Our goal was to get him to bust, but he was tricky, and we lost many a poker chip to his cruel tactics. But we perseviered, forcing ourselves to learn poker like the backs of our hands. We called, raised, and refused to display proper poker faces as he screamed and raved at Noah's cheating face. The sun lowered above the saloon and still we played on; we were losing, but we couldn't quit now. Morning dawned and high noon highed, but the stakes were still large; we were winning. Back and forth we went, neither us nor our opponent willing to leave broke. For an entire day we struggled wit against wit, card against card, and finally-- after brushing both vicory and defeat-- we won. The Grand Duel of Poker was over.

So that was fun. While I was typing this, Bryan followed a Mexican into the desert and harrassed him as a dog followed close behind and barked at  him. By tugging the Mexican off his horse with a lasso, he apparently distracted the dog long enough to escape. Kind of petty, if you ask me.

Entry #2: I Will Attack Mr. West Dickens With the North

Mr. West Dickens, a slimy fellow with a portly build, was harrassing us again. He wanted us to do his bidding, and fool innocent bystanders into buying his fake medicines. We, for some reason, agreed. When we got to the destination (Ridgewood Farm), we entered a large house without permissions. I gave us a worthy excuse, however: we don't have any manors, so we went inside the manor. That's pretty funny.

Then we helped with his scheme and encountered a skeptical brute refused to believe our magical, potion-induced aiming skills and told us to shoot his hat. After he threw it in the air, that is. We did this, and, naturally, he believed us and all was well. No, really, he decided to murder us, so we shot the gun from his hand. This was enough to convince the entire crowd, and Mr. West Dickens was a hero. And on top of that, we can now paint multiple targets in deadye mode! Isn't that spiffy?

Lastly, a group of wild bandits charged the town and we defended the citizens in a dramatic and brave fashion. We hogtied the final ruffian, deposited him at the bottom of a remote cliff, cut him free, and shot at his feet as he dashed into the distance. This made us feel powerful and slightly sadistic.

As the in-game sun sets, we turn our sights to a stranger to the north. And as Abraham Lincoln once said, "I will attack you with the north."

Entry #1: The Adventure That is Red and Dead

Here we are at the first entry; a very logical place to start! It would be a shame to play this massive game without jotting down some of its highlights. We'll add onto it whenever something of note happens or we just feel like doing so. The idea to create this logbook of sorts dawned on us after several hours of play, so we've already learned how to ride a horse, play poker, and hogtie people we don't agree with. So we're all on the same page here, I'll spend a brief moment catching you up to speed on our adventures thus far. As a note, we will be referring to John Marston's deeds as "we" (that is, "We shot the bandit" or "We shot the other bandit"). It's easier that way. As another note, we will make no effort to avoid spoilers, so you really shouldn't read this unless you've played the game. I'm quite emphatic on this point. If you're compromising the story to read our ridiculous ramblings of revenge and redemption, leave now and never come back. Thanks.

After stepping off the train and getting acquainted to the controls and our surroundings, we went to talk to a bandit. He shot us. But lo, we were rescued by a woman named Bonnie and she allowed us to stay at her family's ranch. We introduced ourselves to the local doctor by tipping our hat and shoving him into the metal shell of a stove. With those pleasantries out of the way, we took to helping out with chores, prompting us to elaborate on a Red Dead Harvest Moon game concept. If this were to catch the interest of Natsume, we would be two happy pandas.

Soon enough we came to a dusty town (as opposed to what?) and did some good deeds for the marshal. We also played a betting game that consisted of stabbing a knife between our fingers as quickly as possible, which resulted in a surplus of money and a loss of blood. A creepy, haggard man with a scruffy beard became our eternal rival during this painful pastime. That, along with plenty of story missions and wilderness trekking, was our first day (real life time, that is).

We tried to stay mostly legal, but fistfights are fun, and the following day we were back to cause trouble. Creepy-haggard-scruffy-beard-man was giving us weird looks, so we raised our fists and he attacked. Although he chased us clear across town, it ended with us tackling him to the ground, tying him up, and taking him into the desert on our horse. As suitable punishment for crossing us, we killed two skunks and left him in between the smelly animals. Speaking of our horse, we tamed a wild stallion during one of the story missions. We would name him, but we enjoy singing "A Horse With No Name" too much to do that.

That was an extremely abridged version of our journey, but I think I hit most of the important parts. We're having barrel of quality fun with Red Dead Redemption so far, though we've scarcely had time to play it. Yet already our vocabulary is morphing into a colloquial blend of country drawls and gruff cowboy cliches. I'm pretty sure that's a good thing.

A First Step!

This is a test post to wrangle in all those all thingies, y'all.