I’ve been sent out to kill the King of Chinatown in the aptly named mission “The King of Chinatown” and as I arrive at the entrance, a sprawling Chinatown opens up in front of me. There are people everywhere, some frying noodles whilst others just hang out—busy minding their own business—I begin to look for the King. A well guarded man for sure I know I am going to have to use all of my skill and cunning. But it shouldn’t be difficult as I am not just an assassin, I am The Assassin. I am Agent 47, the sneakiest most awesomest assassin ever. I assassinate things all stealthily for breakfast. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
From a game’s perspective I have to be one of the more difficult people to please. Games empower us. They grant us abilities we wouldn’t have, couldn’t have and more importantly—probably—shouldn’t have in reality. In short, they have the ability to make us the awesomest version of ourselves, yet there is always going to be a risk of Ludonarrative dissonance. Or in my case, not so much a risk but a guarantee.
What am I trying to say with these fancy words? I’m a terrible assassin—possible the worst in the world—is what I’m trying to say. But don’t just take my word for it—thought you are going to have to either way—let this story of the assassination of the King of Chinatown serve as an example of my incredible ineptitude.
As I make my way through the dense crowd of people I notice a nice sports car parked on my left. As my instincts tells me this is the Kings car I make my way towards the vehicle thinking that maybe I can sabotage his brakes or something else that will end up killing him. Of course I completely miss the guard standing only a few meters away from car.
Fuck, fuck, shit! What do I do now?!
I quickly snap the guard’s neck before he has time to question my lurking behaviour. Fucking crap! Now I have to drag his body away quickly before someone else—in this crowded Chinatown—sees the dead guy lying next to me… who’s clothes I coincidently just stole. Where? Where?! Ooo, some stairs leading up to what appears to be a random assortment of wooden boxes. That will have to do, I have no time to be picky and really nowhere else to go anyway. So I am mid dragging this dead underwear wearing corpse up the stairs when I hear someone shouting “Stop! Who are you? What are you doing?”
Fuck, fuck, shit!
I quickly finish dragging the dead guard and then I raise my hands in defeat—don’t worry, I’m just faking it so he’ll come closer—as he gets close enough I smack him across the head, turning him around to a stranglehold with Mr. Lefty as Mr. Righty grabs his gun and aims it at whoever might be in front of me.
Phew. No one there.
I knock him out and steal his gun. I don’t want anyone else to show up so I quickly start moving away from the two bodies lying in a contorted pile up on top of each other. It’s true what they say “Death is never pretty”. I am feeling frustrated. I haven’t found the King yet but I already have two dead bodies on my hands. To ventilate my frustrations, I decide to hit the King’s car as I walk by it. The car alarm goes of instantly.
Fucking shit fuck!
I quickly move into the crowd of people in front of me as several guards convene around his car to investigate the disturbance. I manage to move into another crowd before they find my surprise(s).
Further ahead I notice a man standing under a roofed patio. I have finally found the King. He’s alone inside the patio but the patio itself is surrounded by multiple armed men. No way I’m going to be able to get to him in there. I stand around trying to conjure up an alternative plan before I notice the King walking away from his patio… and his merry armed men. I discreetly follow the King as he walks into an alleyway and realise that I’m not getting a better opportunity than this.
So, there I am. Agent 47, the supposedly greatest assassin in the world, waiting for this man to pull out his penis so he can peacefully urinate in an alleyway. Little does he realise that this is the last time he’s going to get to hold his beloved penis. In just a few seconds I am going to wrap my fibre wire around his very snappable neck, all the while trying not to get his pee on my recently dry cleaned suit.
A few suffocated grunts later it is done. Whilst trying to avoid anyone catching me and my latest work—Poor guy, pants down and all—I exit Chinatown, never to return again.1
Back in my apartment I notice that I have some “Royal We” on my suit. Damn it, now I am going to have to get it dry cleaned again. But I suppose that such is the live of an assassin, even a terribly inept one.
I do return again later in the game—to kill three guys—but that’s is irrelevant to this story. ↩