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Trevor, Angel of Death
by Tom Chick
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I've got a bad feeling about this. I seem to recall the single
player game had an elaborate system for commanding computer-controlled
team mates. There are rules for arresting suspects and evacuating
hostages. Everyone has a dozen or so different equipment items.
There's even some sort of dentist's mirror for looking around corners.
It's not just running and gunning. I frantically start looking stuff
up in the manual as the questions begin.
"What's this respawn thing?" Trevor asks while he's setting
up a game. While I flip through the manual, he checks the box anyway.
"Okay, everybody join in," he calls out to the guys on
the two computers in the other room, "It's me and Peter against
you guys."
I'm still looking up the respawn thing as the game begins. The
level is a small house in Pasadena. A really small house. The rent
couldn't be more than $400 a month for this house and now there
are four heavily armed SWAT guys in here ready to shoot at each
other. And they're not alone. Apparently multiplayer games in SWAT
3 feature innocent bystanders using the character models from the
single player scenarios. There's a Greek Orthodox priest decked
out in ornate robes standing in front of Peter. The priest is reciting
some sound bite about the Holy Father.
"Whoa," Peter says, "What game are we playing?"
"Hey, there's a wizard or something in here," Trevor
yells. "He's saying the Holy Father must be shaved."
"I think he's saying Holy Father must be saved," Peter
says.
"He's a cultist!" Trevor announces, "Shoot him before
he sprays you with sarin gas!"
Peter shoots him.
"I don't think there's sarin gas in SWAT 3," I say, but
no one's listening to me. I flip through the manual to be sure there's
no sarin gas.
"What's that?" Trevor asks me. He presses his finger
against the middle of the screen.
"What's what?"
"That. That big curlicue thing in the middle of the screen."
"That's your reticule. It's how you aim."
"That's not a reticule, that's a fucking glyph." Now
that Trevor mentions it, it is rather ornate. A far cry from the
simple crosshairs or laser dot you get in other games.
"I think there's a key to change it," I say, flipping
through the manual and then quickly forgetting what I'm looking
for once Trevor asks me how to open doors. He seems to have spawned
in a closet. He takes aim at the door and yells to the other room,
"Hey, you guys, look in the closet. The object of this game
is to find and evac Elian Gonzalez." He giggles in anticipation
of shooting whomever opens the closet.
"I don't think Elian is in SWAT 3," I say, still flipping
through the manual. I was expecting someone to ask me how to reload,
but no one stays alive long enough to reload in this tiny house.
I idly wonder if there's a phone booth deathmatch map.
Peter opens the closet and Trevor shoots him.
"Hey, I'm on your team," Peter says.
"Sorry, dude, but your name is only on the back of your jacket.
How was I supposed to know?"
"Good point," Peter agrees, seeing 'Peter' written across
the back of his bleeding corpse's kevlar vest.
Everyone's MP5 is crackling politely, all suitably suppressed for
this tiny tenement. But then they discover the middle mouse button
is bound to the "comply" command, which basically means
yelling at someone to put his weapon down. Now Shoot Club is a cacophony
of SWAT members barking orders at mid-air. "Drop your weapon!"
"Get down on your knees!" "Put your hands over your
head!" "Do it, now!" It's like the first time they
discovered there were voice taunts bound to the keypad in Diablo
II. "This is for you." "Forgive me." "Time
to die."
Cont'd
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