A Day in the Life of John Marston (Red Dead Redemption)

Here is a little something about one of my favourite games this year, Red Dead Redemption: a day in the life of RDR protagonist, John Marston.

5.01am – I woke up to see the most beautiful sun rise over the Mexican hills, with bird-people sweeping majestically through the morning sky.

6.30am – Not sure if I’m still feeling the effects of those Tequilas from last night, but I swear I just saw a mule-faced woman. I was more surprised than a slut dog with her first porcupine.

9.45 am– Just sold the shopkeeper four wolf hearts, 10lbs of dog meat and a baker’s dozen of pigeon arses. I swear he’d buy anything.

12.40pm – Suddenly found myself in the mood for mischief so I abducted a lady of the night from a local watering hole, and left her on the train tracks, hogtied. When the train finally arrived, she made a wonderful mess. It’s really not like me, but every time I put on this bandana I just get so carried away. Then I take it off, and it’s like nothing ever happened.

1.45pm – Strange occurrence #3- man riding an invisible horse. They definitely do things differently down here, south of the border.

6.20pm – Crossed back into the US and had a conversation with a gun slinging dog. He whimpered something unintelligible about helping him storm a gang hideout. I skinned him alive. He stunk.

7.50pm – Finally completed my extensive flower and herb collection. I am overcome with a sense of achievement. Now if only I could kill 3 Grizzly bears with my shoe, whilst running backwards…

8.10pm – Thought I should finally do something constructive towards getting my family back. I met with a group of local scoundrels who assured me that they would lend me their assistance if I did them a set number of favours.

8.27pm– Note to self: don’t trust everyone you meet. I think I’ll put on my bandanna and blow off some steam.

8.41pm – I didn’t put it on properly, and now a posse of lawmen are hot on my heels.

2.41 am – I went down in a hail of bullets, but the lawmen were kind enough to tend to my wounds, take me to a nearby safe house and tuck me in. They aren’t all that bad after all.

3.00 am – I accidentally shot the head off my trusty steed whilst trying to hunt a rabbit with a Buffalo rifle. Never mind, a replacement is no more than a whistle away.

3.10 am – This replacement nag is begging to be sent to the knackers yard. Where is my bandanna?

3.11 am – Walking to Armadillo.

3.50 am – Fingers are sore after a few rounds of five finger fillet. Has no one heard of Jenga around here?

4.45 am - After a few rounds of whiskeys with the Walton boys, I think its time to hit the hay. I’ll miss this place once it’s gone. Truly, the Wild West has never been so much fun.


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