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Suddenly I'm reminded of those "Hitler reacts to" videos....

*Rockstar offices, 1pm sharp* Dan Houser is sitting at the head of a table, his mouth grimaced, a cigar clamped rigidly within his furled lips. He gets up and rifles through some papers agitatedly, his back to the full length window looking out over Broadway below giving him a silhouetted and menacing demeanour. Hunched over the table, smoke emanating periodically from his cigar in synchronicity as he exhales deeply through his nose, he shakes his head and drops the papers to the desk, then looks scornfully at the executives assembled before him. Several bow their heads in either a gesture of reverance or shame, Houser looks towards the man sitting closest to him on his left, wincing and barely stopping himself from biting through the cigar. The man, paralysed with fear, is unable to avert his gaze from Houser, his sheepish, pleading eyes peering up at him from behind his thick rimmed glasses. Houser turns his attention to the group. "So, who's responsible for this... this fuck up? Who is gonna be held accountable for these lost millions?" A man in a dull grey suit covering a damp, sweaty shirt nervously raises his hand. "Sir, we had no idea such a thing was going to happen, there was no indication of any imminent danger. All the trends showed we were going to have free reign over this market." Houser looks at him intently, saying nothing. "This, this game... if you can even call it that came out of the blue, we were completely unprepared for it...we had no..." Houser raises his hand. "Ok, i've heard enough... you call yourselves executives? How could you let this unknown company crawl out of the woodwork and produce something so dangerous? You fucked up bad with Far Cry 5, and now this? What the fuck am I paying you for? You're meant to predict this, prevent this, but no... you fucks... you couldn't predict Online would be so successful, I should've seen that as a warning sign." Houser turns to the window, fully silhouetted now. "And now, now there's only one thing left to do..." *Red Dead 2 release day* "Log in to RDOnline over the next week and claim your $300,000 in gold bullion, plus a limited edition pink ten gallon hat with ostritch feather sticking from it."

I'm also going to pre-emptively fuck R* for favouring microtransactions in the online component of Dead Red Dedemption - buy some gold spinner horseshoes for your best horse, make sure it's insured too in case some twat in a hot air balloon bombs the shit out of it. Get your Bison Bullion bags today, do it now kiddies. And other such phrases shall be uttered, merriment was had by all.

Hierarchy