Is it possible for a first date to go any worse? After waiting in line for an hour and plopping down a cool $60 to be one of the first to get my hands on the megahit of 2008, I feel obliged to try all this massive game has to offer. So I went on a real date with the very fictional Michelle. I even bought a nice pair of jeans beforehand to make a good impression, American girls seem to put a lot of importance on clothes for some reason. Tight pants was the last of my problems when it was all over, though.

Russians have a pretty cute word for carnival: funfair. You know what you’re getting into there. Instead of just eating food like two normal people meeting each other for the first time, we went to this supposed funfair down by the docks. Doesn’t trouble always spring up there? Turns out, the carnival is closed for renovation - something to look forward to as this sordid tale progresses - but a devastating turn of events on this evening.

We decided to go bowling for some reason, just a little walk down the boardwalk. I travel as the crow flies, though. A-to-B without any detours. So we cut through the miniature golf course. It seems innocuous enough, right? Just walk through a little 18-hole green and it’s nothing but sweet strikes for the rest of the night. If only the proprietors realized how dangerous those blasted water hazards could be.

As the crow flies demands that I don’t turn my path for any reason. The quickest way through the golf course was by taking a quick dip in the shallow pool. I jumped in, new jeans soaked and shrinking, and began to wade through the dyed-blue obstacle. Michelle followed close behind. When we got to the end, I lept up with ease and continued towards the alley. Alone. Michelle was still in the water.

I tried to help her up. I jumped near her, showing her how to do it. I even called her on the cell phone, desperate to give advise. But she wouldn’t budge. Like Artax in The Neverending Story, she knew her fate. She wouldn’t move even to save herself. I began to search for another way out of the shallow pond, a pool that hardly passed my knee, when a three word message flashed on the bottom of the screen: Michelle Is Dead.

I walked over to her body, certain the game was wrong, and inadvertently collected her dropped cash. As I stood on that spot. trying desperately to understand how a healthy young woman could drown in a shallow pool of water, the sun began to rise. When I saw the image - an illegal immigrant standing waste deep in water next to a floating white woman - I bolted. For the first time in GTA history, someone’s death wasn’t my fault, but I doubt the cops would see it that way.

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