Los Santos Customs
I’m modding GTA 5 every day in a quest to either transform it into a PC version of GTA 6 or break it entirely. Come back tomorrow to find out what new horrible thing I’ve done to Rockstar’s baby, or check out what I got up to earlier.
The police, GTA 5 informs me, have my description. This is not a surprise; everyone has my description. I have installed Everyone Is Franklin, and now everyone is Franklin. Or, well, nearly everyone is Franklin. Here is a comprehensive list of entities who are not Franklin:
- The furry gang
- The hitmen who periodically float past in cars trying to kill me
- Probably Michael and Trevor, wherever they are
- That might be it?
- My bodyguard
- God
Everyone else? Franklin. All of Los Santos has become me, morphing into my tasteful cashmere jumper and chinos. They lounge on street corners, louche and smoking. They occupy the beachfront gym, sweating through that same cashmere as they bench press and kickbox. They are everywhere. I am everywhere. I can give myself a piggyback if I want to. I do want to.
It’s actually a bit disconcerting. The streets are somewhat emptier now, for reasons unknown to me, and those Franklins who remain to populate it are mostly very quiet. They shuffle along in mute procession. To where? I know not. Some new world, maybe, glimpsed in a dream.
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One wrinkle is that, in becoming Franklin, it seems every single person in Los Santos has also inherited Franklin’s divine un-life. They are all unkillable. No matter how many explosives I lay at their feet or how many cars flatten them, they get up and keep on trucking. Also, I cannot aim directly at any of them. They are my allies. Am I my own ally? A philosophical question. Sometimes, surely, I am my own worst enemy.
