the resigned gamer, everything I hate about the thing I love the most

Hitman - Blood Money: A good man is hard to find

Posted by Sir Cucumber at 8:17 AM on Wednesday, August 6, 2008

sir cucumber's bitter corner, the resigned gamer

There is nothing better in this life than getting paid to do what you love, which I guess is why I’ve always been so fond of the Hitman series.

Actually, there are many reasons:

To start, there’s 47. We’ve walked in many (unconscious or dead) men’s shoes, he and I, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned about him it’s that he’s not a judging man. Yes, he believes people should maintain a standard of professional discretion and strive for self improvement by learning from our mistakes, but if someone were to tire of exploratory subterfuge and lurking in bathroom stalls with hypodermic needles and just blast their way through a job, well that’s on them.

47’s never been much of a conversationalist, but I’d sooner drink a beer or catch a fish with a cloned sociopath than some angst-ridden spiky-do in shortpants that doesn’t know when to shut up. Also he still reads local newspapers. Solid Snake is a fucking geriatric but do you ever see him pick up a copy of the Shadow Moses Sun-Times when he's in town?


47 gets a chuckle from the police blotter but his favorite has always been Marmaduke...


Hitman also doesn’t fuck with the program. Like Ratchet & Clank, I know what to expect from this franchise, and I get it. In fact, the most significant addition to Blood Money is not multiplayer garotte-offs, downloadable 47 facial hair upgrades, or a spunky sidekick, but that guards no longer become suspicious of your disguises when they see you run. This may make the game a little less realistic, but if I’m going to spend my night repeating a sequence over and over and over to get it right I’m grateful to not have to do it at a snail’s pace. And anyway it’s rather silly to strive for realism when not a single bodyguard or federal agent can recognize an infamous albino assassin with a barcode on the back of his bald head just because he dons a chef’s hat.