For those unfamiliar with FarCry 3, it’s quite a simple premise; pirates (not the ‘drink up me hearties yo ho’ type, the Somali gun wielding type), drugs, beautiful panoramas and killing literally everything. These four things are combined in a variety of different ways, and whilst it would be easy to wax lyrical about how much I love this game (I do, in case you wondered. I really do), instead I am going to list some memorable moments I experienced whilst discovering the Rook Islands.
Early on in my adventure into my first play through, I find myself driving along a dusty mountain track. Then, as I turn round a corner, I chance upon a car blocking the road and two men in red shirts holding AK 47s; the unmistakable sight of a pirate road block. I stop and consider running, but they’d easily catch me. Worse still, they’ve seen me and they’re making their way towards me to investigate. Bravely/stupidly I jump from the car and, ignoring the lesson Jurassic Park 2 taught us all, ran straight into the long grass. As I peered out from between tall blades of grass, I saw them walk towards the car, seemingly bewildered at the fact that a car had driven itself along the road. Stealthily, I snuck behind a rocky mound to flank around behind them and, like Agent 47 on his annual holiday, I took down one then the other with a brutally effective silent knife to the chest. Proudly, I returned to my car and drove on.
A mile or so down the road the same situation occurred and, filled with confidence and the arrogance of being a badass, I knew this time how to deal with them. Again I jumped from my car, again I hid in the long grass, and again I stealthily snuck round behind a conveniently placed rocky outcrop. As they predictably walked towards my abandoned vehicle, I moved forwards to repeat my Hitman honed silky silent takedown. As I was about to lunge forward and make my attack, a cobra leapt from the undergrowth and plunged its fangs into my arm. Both myself and my character as one shouted something not too dissimilar to ‘sod off you limbless little shit!’ which of course alerted the pirates to my presence, and as I had neglected to loot the previous two pirates I had no ammo. I was then killed to death very quickly.
The Bird Is The Word
Spin forward a few hours, and I have come of age on the Rook Islands. I am one with the jungle, like the lone marine sneaking through the Vietnamese jungle looking for villages to invade and hallucinogenic drugs to consume. I come across what appears to be a riverside base, filled with a dozen or so angry pirates. I plan my attack carefully, wondering whether I could sneak in without being seen, silently taking down each man one by one, or whether to go rushing in Rambo style, killing one and all in a blizzard of bullets and climactic excitement. Aha! There’s one in a watchtower over there, I’ll sneak up on him, take him out with a silent knife to the face, making the task of sneaking in and out much easier. Sneaky sneaky sneak, stabby stabby stab, and my plan was going we…oh no wait no it isn’t, the dead pirate has fallen over the edge of the watchtower. As he lands in a crumpled heap, inevitably the other pirates notice and, aware that suicide victims rarely have a massive machete sticking out of their face, began searching for me.
I was hiding in the undergrowth, wondering how I deal with the situation with my dignity still intact. Fortunately for me, nature intervened. As I watched on; perhaps drawn by the scent of dead pirate, perhaps sent by Gaia mother of nature to protect me (the former probably), a tiger the size of a Jeep leapt from the bushes toward the dead pirate. The other pirates looked on, startled as you would be at the enormous striped face full of teeth that was hurtling towards them, which then proceeded to take down five of them in an orgy of blood and screaming as I watched on. And as I watched, one thought went through my head; ‘If I could skin that bad boy I bet I could craft something awesome’.
Rather than just acting as a playground for the maladjusted, FarCry 3 encourages you to hunt and collect various plants and animal skins to level up your abilities. And I was pretty sure that, once that tiger had finished literally tearing a new one to that last pirate, I could fashion something pretty sweet out of it. I snuck through the grass, telling myself that I was up wind so that the tiger wouldn’t know I was coming (although in reality just sneaking with no particular skill or direction). Then it happened.
As I came to a clearing, I was met by a fearsome sight. A flock of casowarys, huge birds the size of ostriches but with massive beaks and claws stood before me, and eyed me with suspicion. I stared into the eyes of the one closest to me and the cassowary stared back, a look burning so clear that it could be unmistakable; ‘Imma gonne f**k you up boy!’ As four cassowary’s charged forward at me, I took leave of my senses and forgot that I was holding a shotgun. Instead I chose the cowardly option of my fight or flight reflex, and took off as fast as I could manage. Birds scratched and pecked at my back as I ran to the river, hurtling along the jetty knowing that no bird save a radition mutated giant kingfisher would attack me if I dove into the river. What I forgot to factor in however, was that when I dove in, a crocodile leapt up and snapped me in it jaws, and drowned me as I frantically stabbed at its jaw in a futile attempt to break free.
Part two will follow next week – stay tuned!