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There’s no reason to apologize for the fact that GTA IV can’t match the visceral humanity of Brando behind that leather desk, or De Niro on that rooftop — or to couch excuses in overreaching justifications. (It’s like the guys who used to say that if Shakespeare were alive today, he’d be a rapper — hip-hop never needed such overblown validation.) As a relatively young medium, videogames don’t have to get caught up in the high-brow, low-brow trap — and they shouldn’t. Games don't have to be as moving as The Sopranos or The Godfather; they can be as funny as Superbad or as fight-heavy as The Matrix. Or they can just do the hoodoo that they do so well — and forget about the comparisons. Before too long, we'll be reading reviews of novels and TV shows and films that say they aspire to the sandbox creativity, the liberating amorality, and the groundbreaking open-endedness of Grand Theft Auto IV. Logan Hill na New York Magazine.
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