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What intrigues me most about Grand Theft Auto V

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“ It’s possible to look past that soiled vest, presumably encrusted with his own vomit, and be very charmed by Trevor."

In one sense, the characters are all tightly authored – the dialogue’s sharply written, mannerisms and backstories carefully elaborated. They each have a very definite set of traits. But the second part of their characterisation – what they actually do – is almost entirely entrusted to you. In GTA V you become omnipotent, able to invade the minds of the lead characters.Los Santos is an incredible place, and you'll get to see it from three very different points of view.It’s a long-standing storytelling technique, but one rarely used by games. Changing point of view subtly alters your relationship with that character, emotionally and morally.As always, this sort of thing is best illustrated through examples. So here are two missions that Luke didn’t mention in IGN’s first hands-on with GTA V . I think they're both great examples of how switching characters exerts a subtle power on the narrative.

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“ I never wanted to get involved in any of this. It was all his fault. I didn’t want to go back to Grove Street."

Urban Safari is the first mission I played in GTA V, and it starts outside Franklin’s house. He’s being hectored by his friend Lamar, who desperately needs his help on a drug deal. Franklin wants no part in such petty gang banging – it’s clear his ambitions lie far outside of the hood he’s been born into. Trevor suddenly appears, and is the absolute force of nature I always suspected him to be. He’s agitated, rambling, muttering about his messed up childhood, and hungrily looking for trouble. Unsurprisingly, a drug deal proves irresistible. (Interestingly, I started this mission playing as Franklin, but there was also the possibility to begin as Trevor, meaning open-world gameplay and missions can dovetail in slightly different combinations.)With Trevor onboard, it’s harder for Franklin to cavil, and so I amble into the back of Trevor’s van, along with Lamar and his faithful Rottweiler, Chop. It doesn’t take long to reach the heart of the hood – Franklin clearly hasn’t moved that far away. It’s a familiar cul-de-sac, intimidatingly fringed by rundown houses and shifty huddles of gang members – it’s Grove Street, the home of San Andreas’s protagonist, CJ. And the gang we’re negotiating with for a kilo of coke? The Ballas.We jump out of the van and follow Lamar up to one of the houses. I can feel a thousand eyes watching my every movement. I don’t feel safe. The door opens suspiciously, and we’re presented with a white block wrapped in plastic. It’s cut open with a flick knife, and we’re allowed to sample the goods. Lamar takes a taste, and is eager to hand over a chunky wad of cash, but Trevor is tetchy. He asks if we can take a sample from the other side of the brick. The dealer refuses and starts to play hardball – do we want to make a deal or not? Trevor snatches the block out of the guy’s hands, and snaps it in half. It’s fake: a gram of blow hidden in a fake brick. We’re screwed.The throbbing score violently ratchets up, as all hell breaks loose. Disorientated, I stumble into the nearest cover – a low garden wall. I feel genuinely unsafe, surrounded by seriously pissed off gangsters. Trapped at the bottom of Grove Street, we’re as good as dead. We all know it.Our only chance is to pull together and fight our way up the street. I scramble from cover to cover, hiding behind parked cars, as bullets fly above my head. I can see Chop running around, barking, drawing fire, even biting. I’m pinned down behind the van, so I switch to Trevor, wondering if the ability to change characters gets you out of jail should you find yourself running low on health, but he was taking just as much heat.The cops soon arrive on the scene to subdue the urban uprising. This is the distraction we’ve been waiting for. I hear Lamar shout from across the street – he’s found a way out. I follow him down a narrow alley that separates two of the slovenly houses, and instantly the thick claustrophobia of the Grove Street shootout dissipates. The world opens up again. The houses back onto the Los Santos storm drain – a vast man-made river carved out of concrete. We run down towards the water. Bizarrely there are a group of girls in colourful bikinis dancing for a film crew in front of three jet skis. Is this a TV advertisement? A music video? Porn? I have no time to find out – there’s a police helicopter humming overhead. I push one of the girls out of the way and steal her jet ski. Trevor, Lamar, and I head for open waters – I guess Chop ran home – but we can’t escape. The helicopter’s still on our tail.We eventually reach the roadside and jump into one of the now vacant cop cars. We’re still being pursued, but I sense I can get away. I head off into the dark, down the web of dusty roads that lie far outside of the city. I break line of sight with my pursuers, and my wanted level drops. We’re clear, but finishing the mission as Franklin, I feel angry. I'm annoyed with Lamar, who's sat in the car next to me. I don't want him to be there. As fun as it was to play, I never wanted to get involved in any of this. It was all his fault. I didn’t want to go back to Grove Street. I get out and walk away into the night.