Too Long; Didn't Play: Far Cry 5

Sponsored By: Me

Time Played: 31 hours

PEGging review

Note: The following review does not contain spoilers, except maybe in an alternate universe where the ending to Far Cry 5 was better than it was.

So I guess this is a spoiler, of sorts. It’s a spoiler of what isn't Far Cry 5's ending.

Spoiler Alert Review

“Hey, Kid,” Dutch’s voice crackled over the radio. “Joseph Seed is holed up back at the compound. It’s time to end this.”

The Deputy acknowledged Dutch with his customary click of static. The push-to-talk button had been broken since he fell out of that helicopter when this whole thing started. Dutch didn’t seem to mind, though. As long as the peggies kept getting pushed back, the Deputy’s pervasive silence didn’t bother anyone.

Cheeseburger, the massive bear who’d developed a taste for cultists, nuzzled the Deputy's arm. The Deputy scratched him behind the ears and nodded. He knew what he had to do next, he just wasn’t looking forward to it. This sort of thing never ended well.

The rusty, white pickup truck groaned to life as the Deputy turned the key. He followed the map back to where this all got started, where it could have ended it if he’d only been more patient. Well, it was going to end there, regardless.

The road was just as winding as he remembered it, and he slowly drove the truck to Joseph Seed’s front door. It looked different in the daytime, and deserted. The Deputy couldn’t decide whether it was more or less unnerving this way.

As the Deputy stepped out of the truck, Sheriff Whitehorse and deputies Pratt and Hudson stepped out of another truck. He hadn’t even noticed they were following him. That was a problem. Joseph was cagey, much more so than his siblings, and if the Deputy wanted a good ending to this whole mess he’d have to be on his game.

The door opened, and Joseph sauntered out. He looked smaller, somehow. Shirtless, but still sporting those yellow sunglasses, he ran a hand through his unkempt hair as he stepped out into the bright, noonday sun.

“And so, here we are,” Joseph spoke. His voice was rougher, but he still sounded composed. More so than he looked, anyway. “Back where we started. Look at what you’ve done, Deputy.” Joseph stepped closer. What was it with the Seeds and personal space? “The world is burning, and it’s your fault.”

The Deputy had a few things to say about that, but Joseph continued.

“So many good people are dead, and it’s your fault.”

The Deputy didn’t disagree, though he might have an argument or two about which people they were talking about.

“My family is … dead, and it’s your fault.”

Well, the Deputy had to concede that Joseph had him on that one.

Joseph continued.

“You took my family from me,” He put his face within inches of the Deputy’s face and sneered. “And now, I’m going to do the same for you.”

“What the ****?” Deputy Hudson shouted. The Deputy turned around and saw that all of the people that he’d met in Hope County were there with the characteristic wavy lines over their heads that told him they were stoned out of their minds. Sheriff Whitehorse and deputies Hudson and Pratt were on their knees with shotguns pressed into their backs by people the Deputy had previously thought of as companions.

“But,” Joseph continued. “I’m a forgiving man. If you walk away now – leave this place, leave me my flock – I’ll let you and your friends go. No grudges. No vengeance. Go in peace.”

“That’s ****ing bull****” Deputy Hudson spat.

“Game over, man. Game over.” Deputy Pratt whimpered.

“Shut up, Pratt.” Sheriff Whitehorse growled under his moustache before nodding to The Deputy. “You know what to do, Dep.”

“But if you persist,” Joseph ignored everyone else in the audience but the Deputy. “If you challenge me, you will see the wages of your wrath. You will learn that not every problem can be solved with a bullet.”

The Deputy looked at Joseph. The cult leader’s hands were shaking, either with rage or with fear – he couldn’t be sure. Joseph’s eyes seemed to have difficulty focusing, and he swayed slightly. The Deputy thought about everything Joseph had just said, about everything Jacob had said, and Faith, and John.

What they said, and more importantly what those words meant. He said the only thing he could say.

“You’re right.”

The Deputy heard the collective gasp behind him. Was it the first time they’d heard his voice? Were they just shocked by what he’d chosen for his first words? It didn’t matter.

Joseph smiled, and opened his mouth to say something, but the Deputy wasn’t finished talking.

“Not every problem can be solved with a bullet.”

The Deputy let out a shrill whistle.

“Holy sh--” Joseph’s last words were cut short as Cheeseburger crashed through a nearby fence and dragged the cult leader to the ground. There was a scream, followed by a sickeningly wet crack, and a gurgle.

Then, silence.

Will I keep playing?

The Deputy turned around, and watched as the shotguns fell from the hands of his companions. They were waking up, the last tether holding them to the Seeds draining away like Joseph’s own life did on the dusty access road. Sheriff Whitehorse and Deputies Hudson and Pratt stood up and walked over to the Deputy.

“Nice job, Dep,” Deputy Hudson said. “Though I’m not sure how we’re going to fill out the paperwork on that one.”

“What paperwork?” Sheriff Whitehorse shorted, bristling his moustache. “The Dep here was trying to talk some sense into Joseph, and then this bear showed up and mauled him. Probably drawn by the smell of blood on him from those words carved into his back.”

“Yeah,” Deputy Pratt said. “I wonder how he did those.”

“Shut up, Pratt,” Sheriff Whitehorse said. “Now, Deputy, I believe you still have some unfinished business to clean up. There are those Peggie convoys, and a couple of outposts, and Nick Rye’s wife needs a lift to the hospital, so get going on that, would you?”

The Deputy nodded, and got back into the white pickup. There was still a lot to do in Hope County, and it seemed he was the only one who could do any of it.

Is it the Dark Souls of Far Cry games?

“Holy ****” Hurk shouted, having recovered from the bliss-induced haze first. “Have you tried this new vidja game? It’s got, like, Watchdogs and Assassins and dinosaurs in it, and there’s some dude with a Mohawk with a name like a brand of cough drops. It’s hella kewl, man. You gotta try it! Some of the levels are damn hard, but that’s probably ‘cause some of ‘em, you know, were made by other gamers and not game designers, so that s***’s prolly broke as f***, you know what I mean?

"Anyway, I got me some ideas for my own levels, and they is gonna be tough as Clutch Nixon on meth, you know? Like scary tough. Hey man, you got some quarters? Only I ran out of continues, and I wanna get back into this level before the timer runs out and ...”


Just remember, What Would Clutch Nixon do?

I didn't understand anything in this review. Well done.

Nathaniel wrote:

I didn't understand anything in this review. Well done.

Thanks. I was granted immortality as a boy, and after I built my time machine it became my life's work to confuse everyone in the universe who ever existed alphabetically.

I'm now up to the N's.