After getting off the plane in San Andreas, it became abundantly clear that the local cops were not part of the solution - they’re part of the problem. Crooked like a dirty politician. They took my money and accused me of being a cop-killer, and I hadn’t even been in town ten minutes.

It was good to see my friends again, though some didn’t recognize me, I’d been gone so long. We soon got to reminiscing about old times and, against my better instincts, I fell back into the pattern of gang life that seems so prevalent here.

See, I came back because someone killed my mom, and I need to find out who. It was gang-related, though, and I’m thinking if I can infiltrate my way back in, I can figure it out and maybe even unite all the gang families in the process. Optimistic? Sure, but it’s for the good of San Andreas.

When I first got here, all I had to get around on was a bicycle, but soon after I got myself a car. I drove around the town to get a feel for the place and it became abundantly clear that it’s nearly impossible to get three or four blocks without causing massive amounts of property damage and killing several people. I started keeping a body count, but all I was doing was making hash marks that stopped me from getting about my business, so I decided against it. I figure, if I honk my horn and the pedestrians don’t scurry, it’s their own fault for getting waxed.

I found the local eateries and the gym, so I can keep myself in shape. I learned some new fighting moves at the gym, though I still don’t get this “running attack” he taught me. I’d just as soon pull out a baseball bat as deal with trying an attack I can’t seem to get right.

One of my friends, Sweet, let me in on a problem in the city - gangs have been tagging buildings everywhere. Thankfully, he provided me with a can of green spray paint to perform some community service and cover those nasty tags up with. Turns out there were 100 such tags, all of which I went around and cleaned up. That took a while, but I had a map that outlined the locations, so it wasn’t as bad as you’d think.

That netted me quite a bit of respect from the gang, and after it was over, I found a load of weapons in my kitchen, as though the gun fairy dropped them off. As many times as I pick them up, they keep reappearing. No complaints. I figure I can put them to good use.

After that, I did a couple of drive-by shootings - you know, to get some more respect - and participated in a lowrider contest where I had to make my car bounce to the music. Oh, and I did just a little illegal street racing in that same lowrider.

Finally, my friend Ryder introduced me to the joys of breaking and entering. We didn’t just settle for stealing guns from a retired Army colonel’s house, though, we even ripped off the National Guard. Those guys never knew what hit them.