You really know you’ve made it in the underworld when you find
yourself partying in a penthouse with an army of pink ninja bodyguards.
In Saints Row: The Third, I’d achieved this within two hours. That’s it,
I’m on top of the world, ma. No-one’s gonna bring me down.Then the minigun wielding ogre clones showed up. In this free roaming city sandbox, you can never predict the future.
It’s worth saying right now that this is the stupidest game I’ve ever played. I mean that in a good way. If you find yourself demanding reasonable answers to questions like: “Why does the tiger in my car calm down when I do power slides?” or: “Why am I being chased by carts pulled by gimps, and why did they just explode?” then you should steer clear of this ramshackle madness. If, however, everything described so far sounds like the best game ever made, then Saints Row: The Third was built exactly for you.
